I'm just here to be kinky

His child knows him. They roll inside of you when he speaks during lectures. The sensation is alien and yet the pure knowledge that it’s his baby leaves you wet and wanting after each class.

And he knows it. The bigger you get, the more obsessed he becomes. Now, instead of fucking other students when you’re not around, he invites you to watch. His eyes stay on you, locked on the way your hand rubs your bare belly, so round and big because of him, and he fucks the other student until he nearly climaxes. But his cum is for you. He always pulls out and goes to you instead, now forcing the other student to watch as he sucks on your swollen areolas and drives his cock into your oversensitive cervix until you’re screaming and dripping with him.

The school year finishes; summer break begins. When your senior year begins, you’re nearly ready to burst. Everybody’s shocked that you even came back to school, but you insisted. You have to be with him, your favorite professor, the man you’re obsessed with, the father of your child. And he needs to be with you. You’re his, his darling broodmare.

When your labor begins, you’re obligated to notify him. He demands you come to his office later that evening. By that point, you’ve been laboring for hours. Your contractions are quite uncomfortable, but you’re not going to disobey him.

“Ah,” he greets when he opens his door for you. “I have a present for you.”

He leads you inside. There’s another student in his office -- a junior, someone you’ve admittedly felt a bit jealous of. He looks at her too much. Gets too close when he speaks to her.

But he doesn’t acknowledge her for now. Rather, he guides you to a nearby chair. Before you sit, he strips away your clothes until you’re naked from the waist down. Then he seats you, grabs some silk ties, and ties your wrists behind your back and your ankles to the legs of the chair. You can’t move; you just have to sit there, pussy bared wide to the other student, moaning as a contraction wracks through you.

Professor Hale murmurs something to the other student -- something you can’t catch -- before he turns back to you. “Watch,” he tells you simply. “If you need something, you will beg for it.”

Before you even have the chance to say anything, he turns back to the other student and bends her over the desk. He leans forward, pressing slow, hot kisses down her back. “Look at her,” he says out loud. “You were even more beautiful.” His fingers ghost up her thighs; his fingertips gently prod her entrance. “You moaned so prettily for me. Begged me to knock you up. Remember?”

You moan once more, partly from the pain of the contractions, partly from how undeniably aroused you are at the memory.

“Pathetic,” he continues as he slips a finger inside of her. The other student whimpers; he starts to slowly thrust into her. “But so gorgeous.” Professor Hale lifts his face and meets your gaze. “I had to give you what you begged for. How does it feel now?”

You let out a loud whine, squeezing your eyes shut as pain radiates through your core. “Adrian,” you choke out, “this -- oh, fuck, this really hurts.”

“Good,” he says. He slips a second finger inside of the other student, drawing an obscene cry from her. “Your suffering will be rewarded. Your devotion will be similarly cherished.”

He suddenly removes his hand. The student lets out a displeased noise, but Professor Hale ignores her. Instead, he unbuttons his slacks and pulls both them and his boxers down until his cock is exposed. It’s already rigid and flushed; he pumps a hand down it, smearing the other student’s fluids down his length.

“Do you want to see what it looked like when I got you pregnant?” he murmurs. “While your body prepares to give me what I put inside of you?”

Your hips buck at that. “Adrian.” You squeeze your eyes shut at the intense pain and building pressure. “I think I’m getting close.”

“Not yet,” he says firmly. “You can’t push until I tell you to.”

He turns back to the other student now, rubbing the head of his cock against her entrance. She starts to cry out again, begging for more of him. His fingers card through her hair, not so much tender as it is patronizing. “Shh,” he tells her. “I’ll satisfy you soon enough.” He leans over her again, kisses the space between her shoulder blades, and then, finally, thrusts into her. She lets out a dramatic gasp, her legs suddenly going tense as he completely buries himself in her tight cunt.

“Wonderful,” he grits out. Then he turns his head towards you. “But not as perfect as you.”

He starts fucking her, hard and deep, a faint smile on his face as you squirm and whimper from your worsening contractions.

“She’ll never have what I gave you,” he says. “You’re my greatest protege.”

Fuck, you’re utterly torn between how much pain you’re in and how fucking hot this is. Your hips roll, desperate for relief from the pressure of your baby’s head, but also so goddamn desperate for him.

“Beautiful.” His eyes are dark, locked on you. “So swollen with me. So ready to give me a child.” His thrusts intensify, punching out yelps from the other student. “And as soon as you give me this one, I’ll put another one inside of you.”

“Oh, my god,” you say -- no, sob. “Adrian, fuck -- oh, god, I need to go to the hospital--”

“No.” He slams into the other student. She’s practically screaming now. “You will stay here.”

The pain rocketing through you prevents you from saying anything more. You dissolve into whimpers and groans, straining against the ties on your wrists and ankles. Meanwhile, Professor Hale keeps fucking the other student, pulling out when she gets too close to finishing, fucking her again when her begging becomes insufferable. This keeps going until--

“I need to push.” You rock your hips forward as you moan. “Adrian, fuck, I’m going to start pushing.”

One moment, he’s behind the other student at the desk; the next, he’s suddenly next to you, untying the restraints on your ankles and wrists.

“Absolutely not.” He pushes you forward so that you’re on all fours on the floor. “You will not push until I say that you’re allowed. Understood?” He glances up at the other student. “Violet, please observe.”

Your protests are shattered by a scream as he shoves himself into you. “Adrian!” you shout as tears run down your face. Everything aches so much; your body is practically begging you to push; and yet this feels fucking incredible in a way it shouldn’t.

“Quiet,” he tells you as he starts rutting inside of you furiously. “You should be grateful for this.”

You moan as your body contracts again. God, you feel so tight around him like this. “Fuck, Adrian, I am, I am.”

He continues fucking you, hissing as he slams into you over and over. “You’re perfect,” he tells you again. “Kneeling like a dog, taking my cock when you would rather be pushing.”

You arch your back, gasping at the sensation. “Adrian, please, I need to--”

The pain is unbearable. Tears fall down your face. He keeps fucking you anyway.

“Adrian, enough!” you choke out. “Oh, fuck, please, Adrian, let me push, please.”

He clicks his tongue as he speeds up. “Not yet, sweetheart.” He grips the back of your neck. “Let your master have his fun first.”

God, you don’t know how much longer you can take this. Your body starts to contract again; then, it’s pushing on its own, drawing a loud, long cry from you as you bear down. The sensation finally causes Professor Hale to break. He seizes suddenly, groans, and his cock pumps into you over and over and over. When you lift your head, you can see the other student watching you with a hand between her legs and a glassy look in her eyes.

Fuck. You are so fucking turned on.

“Adrian, god, make me come!” you scream when he pulls out.

His palm bears down on your tailbone while his other hand finds its way to the space between your legs. “Push,” he commands as he begins to touch you.

“But I want to--”

“Push,” he repeats. “Now.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you bear down. His cum spurts out of you and drips onto the floor.

“Keep pushing,” he says, pressing down harder between your legs. “You will give me my child.”

You obey. The way his fingers rub you roughly sends painful jolts of pleasure through you. Combined with the pushing -- oh, god, you’re so fucking close. You’re so full of him, belong completely to him.

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs into your ear. “Are you going to come while giving birth to my child?”

“Yes!” you gasp.

Professor Hale smiles as he glances up towards the other student. “You wish this were you, don’t you?” he purrs. “Spread out on my floor, laboring with my child, completely mine in every way that matters.”

The baby’s head pushes down deep into your birth canal. The stretch of it causes you to scream, but the pain bleeds into the pleasure. And then, suddenly, you’re coming, and you come so hard and beautifully that the other student is also coming from the sight of it. And Professor Hale is bent over you, letting out a pleased, airy laugh against your throat.

“Push,” he orders softly. “Give me my baby.”

Your vision goes black. You nearly fucking pass out. But you keep pushing through it until -- suddenly -- there’s a squelch. Professor Hale shifts behind you.

“A son,” he murmurs into your ear. “Well done.”

You collapse now as the baby begins to wail. Professor Hale hums as cradles the baby in his arms and snips the umbilical cord.

“Violet,” he says calmly, “you’re dismissed.”

She leaves silently. You tremble on the floor, completely exhausted and out of breath.

He sticks to a schedule so it makes it easy to predict his moves. Creepy, yes. But you blame it on the insanity of college life. 

It’s been a few months and you have yet to see his face, going so far as to leave your apartment just as he gets home, trying your damnedest to catch a glimpse, but to no avail. 

You almost give up, disappointed and frustrated, but then one night there’s a thud next door, loud and heavy and you sit up fast. Did he just pass out?

Without even thinking about it, you scramble out of bed and out of your apartment, wearing nothing but your sheer nightgown. You bang your fist on the door, calling out for him, but there’s no reply. 

Heart racing, stomach twisting into knots, you debate calling the police. They could break the door down and hopefully save the person on the other side. Or maybe they would be too late. You bang on the door again, yanking at the door handle but it’s locked. Panic starts to set in and you are 2 steps back to your own apartment when the click of the lock opening sounds, the door creaking open. 

Surprised relief floods through you and you move back to the door, finding a man…well, a husk of one. He looks awfully sick. He’s pale, sweaty, his eyes unfocused and his fingers shake despite being wrapped tight around the doorframe. He looks so miserable you can’t even rejoice in the fact that you’re finally seeing his face. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? Do you need me to call an ambulance? Or the police?”

The man shivers, his eyes unfocused and squinted, and you give him a once over, surprised to find his whole body trembling. He shakes his head, barely, but you don’t trust him.

“You look really sick. Are you sure I can’t help you with anything?” 

You move closer, reaching up to feel his forehead but he jerks away, losing his footing and falls to the floor. Again. 

He groans, tense and shivering, and you stand in the doorway, suddenly unsure if you’re welcome or not. In the end, you decide to say fuck it. You can’t leave him like this. 

“Let me at least help you back to your bed.”

The man is so out of it he doesn’t even protest as you step inside, closing the door behind you. 

He’s big, so much bigger than the other guys on campus, and honestly would be quite attractive if he wasn’t so sick. But…he’s massive. And you’re, well, not. 

He doesn’t move to get away, or at all really, so you kneel by him and place a hand on his chest. He lets out a pained whimper, his hand suddenly clamping around your wrist, surprisingly strong. His heart thunders under your clammy fingers. 

“You’re really not well. Come on, let’s get to the bed at least.” It’s a miracle you manage to keep your voice steady.

He opens his eyes just enough for you to see the shimmer of green, but you look away as you wrap your arms under his armpits, feeling the muscles in his back bunch even tighter at the touch. You ignore that for the moment, brace yourself, count in your head, and then you lift. 

You strain yourself, not really realizing how heavy he would truly be, but you manage to get him sitting up and leaning against the wall, his head lolling slightly. The shirt he’s wearing is soaked through with sweat, his hair much the same. His cologne tickles your nose, despite the desperate scene.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you sure you don’t want me to call an ambulance?”

He shakes his head, barely lucid. “Can’t…help…”

The words are slurred and barely audible.

You hesitate before reaching out to place a hand on his forehead, feeling the heat radiating off of him. He doesn’t jerk away from the touch this time. In fact, his whole body relaxes and slumps sideways, nearly falling face first to the floor. 

You scramble to hold his shoulders, keeping him from toppling all the way over. 

“Can I? Help?”

He moans, a pitiful sound, and opens his eyes. For the first time since you found him in a heap on the floor, he seems actually aware, like he’s just caught on that you’re trying to help. 

“Why?” he rasps out. 

You’re taken aback by the question, but…you suppose it makes sense. It’s not like you guys have ever talked before. You just watched his every move. Like a totally normal person. 

“Because I want to. You don’t look well and if you won’t let me call an ambulance, then maybe I can help. Or I can at least call someone else for you if you’d like? A brother, sister, mom or dad? Someone?”

He shakes his head, closing his eyes again. “All too far. Can’t help.”

He slumps a little more and you tighten your grip on his shoulders before he falls…again. He jerks at your touch, his brow pinching and a low moan slips from his lips. The sound sends a thrill through your stomach, making you warm. It isn’t a sound you typically hear from a nearly dead person. 

“What…exactly do you need help with?” you ask, suddenly unsure.

His fists flex at his sides, his jaw clenching. He seems to be weighing his options. To tell you or not…

His breathing is heavy when he answers. “I need to lay.”

You raise a brow, not understanding.

“Lay? Like you need to lay down?”

He shakes his head, a bead of sweat dripping over his temple. 

“Lay eggs. If I don’t lay soon, I’ll die.”

If it wasn’t for the way his entire body was trembling, you’d think he was joking. 

“And you can’t…lay…because?”

He peeks through slitted eyes. “Because I need a willing host.”

You’re suddenly struck with the realization of what he needs…and also with how much you want to be the one to help. You may be a virgin but the internet exists, and the rabbit holes you’ve found yourself getting lost in…the very ones full of creatures that weren’t supposed to exist…

“Okay. Let me help.”

You try to hide the excitement in your voice, but he must hear it because he stills, his jaw dropping, his eyes opening fully again. 

“You’re serious?”

You blush, knowing how insane it is to agree to this with someone you barely know, and nod your head, smiling. “Very. Tell me how I can help.”

He’s taken aback, clearly surprised by your eagerness, but his need to lay must take over because he nods, fumbling with the drawstring on his sweats. 

“Help me get these off. I would take you to the bed but I don’t think I can move…”

You nod, unable to contain your excitement. Your fingers wrap around the waistband of his pants and you pull, noting the struggle it takes for him to lift his hips. By the time you get his pants off, you’re disappointed to find there’s nothing there. Nothing you expected at least. 

But before you can even voice your concern, his hand grabs yours and places it between his legs. Your mouth opens again, a question on the tip of your tongue, and then something wriggles under your fingers. You glance down and then smile at the thin pink tentacle thing poking between your fingers. 

“That’s cute,” you whisper, giggling, watching the tentacle wrap around your fingers playfully. But his hand tightens around yours, all seriousness as he barely manages to sit up and push you down onto your back.

“It gets bigger,” he whispers, voice strained, his breath brushing over your face at the close distance between your faces. 

You look up and blush, mouth agape at the massive size of the man above you, heat radiating off his body enough to make you sweat. 

With trembling fingers, he runs his large hands over your thighs, lifting the hem of your nightgown over your waist, and then over your head, leaving you bare on his apartment floor.

“You promise?” you ask, breathless.

He nods, his eyes raking over your nude form as he pulls your underwear off in one swift motion. “I promise.”

He takes just enough time to get his shirt off, his chest broad and gorgeous, his stomach muscles clenching visibly, and then he’s at your throat, his tongue licking over your pulse like a man starving. The first press of his tentacle member makes you twitch, your hips pressing up closer, needing it so much more than you thought. 

He settles heavily between your legs, his face buried between your neck and shoulder, and you wrap your legs tighter around his waist, drawing him closer, needing it desperately. You’ve been imagining this man between your legs for months, and now…it’s actually happening. 

“Brace yourself,” he says, his heated breath brushing over your throat, and you grin.

You drag your nails over his back and he moans, his whole body tensing on top of you, his cock getting thicker and thicker as it continues to press inside. Your hips buck and his hand clamps down on your waist, keeping you still. 

“This won’t last long if you keep that up,” he gasps out. His fingers are so long, so gorgeously long, and you want them everywhere.

“Then hurry up,” you moan in response, pressing up against him again. He shudders, a pitiful moan slipping from his lips, but he does as you ask. He thrusts his hips in a slow, lazy rhythm, stretching you out as his cock continues to grow. 

It’s so warm and deliciously large, much bigger than any of your toys, and he presses against every amazing sweet spot. His tongue dances over your throat and you let your head fall back against the floor, the pleasure so hot and intense.

There’s a sharp pain inside you when he breaches your cervix but it’s immediately soothed by some thick gel pumping into you. You’ve heard that it’s actually supposed to be painful for men to push this far, but this? This is amazing. You can feel him stretching you out so easily, molding your body to his needs. It’s perfect. 

He continues his sloppy, slow thrusts until suddenly he gasps and tenses, tiny whimpers escaping him, his hot breaths falling over your throat. You brush your fingers through his hair and he snaps his hips, making you cry out, the pleasure overwhelming in so many ways. You feel him stretch more, feel your slit expand around the first egg, and you cum hard, harder than you ever have before. 

Your fingers scramble for a hold, gripping the massive muscles bulging on his back. Chest heaving, you can’t help but cry out as the first egg slips past your tight lips. You feel it the entire time, the stretching, the heavy egg moving through you until it pushes past your cervix and settles into your uterus. 

His hand tightens on your hip as you squeeze around him, milking him for more. He grunts and then each one comes faster than the next, practically falling into you with every passing second, and after a few more desperate thrusts, he collapses on top of you, your stomach swollen and heavy. 

“Holy fuck,” you gasp out, chest heaving, body humming with release. “That was…that was amazing.”

He shudders and lifts himself up on his hands, looking down at you with a strange yet fond look, sweat dotting his brow. His skin is darker now, less pale, his eyes more focused. 

“What?” you ask, keeping your legs wrapped around his waist, not even sure if you could move them if you wanted to. 

He shakes his head, his eyes prettier than they were before, his brown curls falling over his forehead. “Nothing, it’s just…you surprised me is all.”

You grin and wrap your hands over his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, watching how his eyes flutter at the touch. 

“What would you have done without me?” you ask. You’re actually really curious because if it was as bad as he was saying…

“Probably would’ve died. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d die if I didn’t lay.” 

He looks down, shifts his hips and wraps an arm under your waist, holding you still as he slowly pulls out, the friction making you shiver.

“I’m glad you didn’t die.”

His eyes lift to yours and a small smile graces his face. “Me too.”

Something warm fills your gut and you know, without a doubt, that you’ll regret it if you never speak to this man again.

“What’s your name?”

He smirks and sits up, bringing you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, arms still wrapped over his shoulders. 

“Vislos. And yours?”

You tell him and he nods, lifting you up with him as he stands, his hands holding your waist with ease. Feeling his muscles bulge under your fingers makes you warm all over again, especially as the added weight around your middle settles. It’s heavy but amazing, something new. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head. It’s a Sunday and the only plans you ever made on Sundays was to clean. 

“Good.”

“Good?”

He nods, a sly grin on his face. “If you’re up for it, I want to fuck you again while I’m lucid.”

You don’t get a chance to answer before his lips smother yours, his hands much stronger now, and his body deliciously heavy against yours. He guides you to what is probably his bedroom, considering the layout is just like yours but flipped, but also you couldn’t care less. 

A door closes but you’re caught up in the feeling of his hands on your bare ass, his tongue buried in your mouth. You barely notice as he pushes you into the shower, pressing you up against the wall as the hot water starts cascading down his back, making you moan. 

He practically consumes you, marking every inch of your body and you let him, wanting to be claimed. Wanting this so bad. And he doesn’t disappoint. 

“Stay the night? Please?” he begs, his bright green eyes peeking at you through sinfully long lashes. 

You don’t even hesitate to nod, wanting to feel his strong arms wrapped around you as much as you can. And not to mention, you still had so many questions. But those could wait. 

His smile makes you melt, his eyes sparkling now with a new life. And as he kisses his way down your body, his tongue finding the sensitive nub of your clit, you’re pretty sure your own eyes are shining with new life too. 

**

“Where are you from?”

Vislos raises a brow, looking down at you from where he’s laying back against the headboard. You’d both showered and fell into bed naked, wrapped around each other. And you were currently enjoying the feeling of his strong arm wrapped around you, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“That’s where you want to start the questions?”

You shrug, running a finger over his pec and smirking when it twitches. “I have several. I figured one at a time would be easier.”

He huffs, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I was born on Earth. My mother is human.”

You hum, looking up through your lashes. “And your father?”

He nods, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “From somewhere far away. Somewhere I’ve never seen and probably never will.” 

“How many eggs did you lay?”

He smirks now, shifting his arm to pull you closer. 

“At least 50. The longer we wait, the more we lay.” 

50 eggs. That many. And they all fit inside you. 

“And when do I…uhhh, lay them I guess?” You weren’t really sure of the proper terminology. 

“It varies for the first time, especially for human women. But I would guess a week or so.”

A week…

“Wait, I have classes. How am I supposed to go to school looking like this?” you ask, sitting up, suddenly very aware of how large your belly is. It isn’t like a full term pregnant belly, but it is big enough to be obvious. Big enough to make you feel like it’s real…

“You can still go to your classes. I have a sweatshirt you can wear. It’ll cover you enough.” The pleased smile on his face doesn’t escape you though. 

You look down at yourself, down at the swell of your middle. “Will they make babies? Do I have 50 babies incubating inside of me?”

He chuckles, sitting forward now too, pulling you into his lap until you’re straddling him. His hands are so big they almost cover your entire ass. 

“No. You have 50 unfertilized eggs inside you. Probably about the size of oranges. You’ll lay them in a week or so and then we will discard them.”

The disappointment you feel at that comes as a surprise. Not even one child out of this mess. Would he even stick around long enough to try for one later? Maybe when you’ve finished your classes?

“Are you…upset?” he asks hesitantly, his eyes roaming over your face. 

His hands brush up over your waist, calming you easily. He’s so warm, his body so much larger than your own. If you stood next to him, he’d likely be at least a head and a half taller than you. 

“No. Not really? I guess I was just kind of surprised they were all unfertilized.”

His brow raises and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“I’m relieved more than anything. I still want to finish school before trying to settle down. And my parents would not like the idea of me dropping out because I’m pregnant.”

You dig your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and his lips fall open, his hands tightening around your waist. His eyes grow distant and you watch as a flush covers his cheeks.

“Are you always this sensitive?” you ask, impressed by how easily he responds to your touch. 

Vislos clears his throat, his eyes clearing, focusing back on you. “Um, for the most part, yes. There are certain areas on our bodies that are more sensitive than others, but still more so for us than for humans.”

You hum, a small smile spreading across your lips, and Vislos’ brows crease. 

“What are you thinking?”

You shake your head, looking like the ever innocent school girl, even as your fingers move to brush over his shoulders. 

“Oh nothing,” you croon out, letting your fingers drift lower, brushing over his chest. His pecs jump at the contact, and his breath hitches. You lightly run the pad of your finger over one of his nipples, and he jerks, letting out a guttural moan. 

“Liar,” he gasps out, but he doesn’t move to get away. Doesn’t push you off of his lap. In fact, the way his eyes flutter and his lips fall open, you can tell he wants more. 

“I’m just curious,” you say softly, letting your fingers drift lower and lower, brushing over the ridges of his abs, clearly well defined but still cushioned. 

“Isn’t there a saying about curiosity killing cats?” he gasps out, his hands moving from your waist to the sheets. 

His voice is hoarse, his breathing heavy, the muscles in his arms bulging from gripping the bed sheets so hard. Despite trying poorly to hide it, you can see the way his body pushes closer, wanting you to keep going. 

“There is,” you answer, feeling yourself grow warmer at the realization of how much you affect him. “Curiosity killed the cat, but,” you pause, looking back into his eyes, “satisfaction brought it back.”

You place your hand between his legs and his whole body jerks, his head falling back against the headboard, a loud thud echoing around the room. His mouth falls open and a deliciously sinful moan falls from his lips, wrapping around you and making you shiver with need. 

Just as you’d hoped, the little tentacle comes out to play once more, the thin pink thing wrapping over your fingers playfully. It’s almost like it has a mind of its own, twirling around your fingers and pressing between them. 

“Amazing.”

Vislos groans, his whole body tense and rigid as you play with the little tentacle. His stomach muscles clench, his thighs tighten as he holds himself still. 

“Can you…can we…again?” you ask, breathless at the beautiful man in front of you nearly broken from your touch alone. It sends a thrill down your back. 

He takes a deep breath, muttering something under his breath, and then his hands are back on your waist, his eyes focused fully on your face.

“Like this?” he asks, breathless, his chest heaving. 

You nod, wanting to watch his face. Wanting to see it all clearly this time around. 

He groans but nods, shifting himself to lay back against the pillows and lifts his legs, pressing his knees up behind you, shifting you forward so you’re straddling the little tentacle. It plays in your slick heat, rubbing over your slick lips, brushing over your clit and makes you gasp and jerk. 

It finally stops messing around and you lean forward, bracing your hands on Vislos’ chest, feeling it explore deeper inside you, curious instead of desperate this time. 

“Will you lay more eggs?” you ask, barely able to get the question out through the arousal shoving through you.

Vislos shakes his head, his jaw clenched, his fingers tight around your hips. 

“Already laid them all,” he gasps out. “Won’t have more for a week.”

You nod and bounce softly, wanting more. He must want more too because the tentacle starts pushing faster, slithering through your tight pussy.  

He shivers and looks up at you, his eyes shining with desire and need and something else you can’t read. His hands flex, squeezing your hips and then he’s brushing them up over the heavy swell of your middle, then up to cup your breasts, a perfect handful for each hand. 

He pinches your nipples and you gasp, squeezing around him. His hips jerk and you grin, shifting to hold onto the headboard instead. 

“Keep up,” you challenge, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as you start to bounce, taking control. And he just lets you, watching your heavy form from below, his eyes wandering and devouring your every move. His hands continue to wander, feeling every inch of your skin. You’re so suddenly hit by the realization that this man could be yours if you wanted, that you could have everything you wanted and then some. 

With renewed vigor, you take control and pleasure yourself, already planning on how to make this permanent.

**

Turns out though, you don’t have to try very hard. You stayed at his place Sunday night too, but Monday morning was a rude reminder that you had to go back to your everyday life. To normal. 

You thought he would leave it at that, only revisit you later when it was time to lay and discard the eggs incubating inside you, but he surpassed your every expectation by cooking you breakfast, offering to drop you off at school, and even bringing you lunch when you told him you forgot yours. 

He was doting, kind, and even funny, making you laugh at the stupidest jokes. By the end of the week, you felt like you’d known him for years. He knew what foods you liked, what you disliked, paid attention when you talked, and honestly…he was perfect. 

Saturday morning, he comes over to cook breakfast, using the extra key you gave him to get into your apartment. He finds you in bed, slips under the covers and wraps himself around you, kissing the back of your neck in greeting. 

You groan, smiling as he shuffles closer. 

“Hmm, morning,” you hum. 

“Morning,” comes his muffled reply. He wraps his arm under your swollen middle, tucking himself up against your back as close as he can. Big spoon isn’t enough to describe how his body practically smothers you. 

“What’s for breakfast?” you ask, running your hand down his arm and linking your fingers with his. 

He nuzzles into you, his breath hot and heavy against the back of your neck. 

“Bacon and avocado toast. Also fruit and some breakfast potatoes.” 

You hum again, already feeling your stomach starting to growl. You’re starving. 

“Get cooking then,” you command, but neither one of you move. He only buries himself closer, trapping you in his arms. At least until your stomach growls loud enough for the both of you to hear. 

You sigh and he chuckles, shifting and slipping out of bed, but not before he leaves a kiss on your temple and a light pat on your ass. You grin and watch as he disappears out of the bedroom door, his ass looking mighty fine in those sweatpants. 

You take your time getting up, stretching and slowly sitting up, adjusting to the early morning hour. The shower is calling your name so you climb out of bed, shuffle to the bathroom, and take your time lavishing your body with soap. 

Your belly has grown some over the last week, a side effect of the eggs absorbing the food you’ve been eating. At least, that’s what Vislos says. You don’t mind, even if it means the sweatshirt he gave you barely covers the bump now. 

Turns out people in college just don’t care. Nobody pays any attention to you, nor do they mention anything about the swell of your middle, even though you wear a sweatshirt in the summer. Even your friends haven’t noticed anything wrong. Well, they’ve noticed that you’re different, but you easily distracted them by telling them all about the new buff boyfriend you acquired entirely by accident.

The details stay secret, but that doesn’t mean you can’t gush to them about how doting and amazing he is, and how much you want him to be yours forever. They laugh and call you a simp but it doesn’t matter. You know deep down, Vislos is the real simp in this relationship. 

By the time you step out of the shower, the smell of bacon and potatoes calls to you, dragging you from the bathroom before you’ve even dried off properly. 

Vislos is there, in your kitchen, dressed in a simple yet sinful pair of gray sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair is a mess, his curls sticking out in several directions, like he forgot to brush it this morning, and you smile softly to yourself, watching as he painstakingly cuts the fruit into little slices and places them artfully on the plate. It’s endearing how much he cares for the small things. 

You take a few more minutes to wrap a robe around yourself, and then you shuffle into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his back, taking a deep whiff of his cologne. 

He straightens, putting the knife in the sink and turns, facing you, face soft. “Breakfast is ready.”

He looks so happy, so delighted to be doing this for you…

“Thank you.”

He grins and nods, turning you around as he guides you to the table where a rather large buffet of items await. All of your favorite fruits, your bacon cooked extra crispy just how you like it, the potatoes still steaming in their dish. Your stomach growls again and he grins.

“Eat up. You need all the energy you can get.”

You nod, too hungry to disagree. Not that you wanted to anyway. 

“You’ll probably lay the eggs soon. You’re showing signs,” he adds as he sits across from you. 

You don’t even know what that means, ‘showing signs’, but you don’t care. 

“Will you lay eggs in me again once they’re gone?” you ask after taking a large bite of your avocado toast. 

He looks a little taken aback by the question, choking a bit on the bacon he’d just eaten, but nods earnestly. “If you’ll allow me to. It’s best to lay weekly.”

You hum around a mouthful of potatoes. “I would like that. I can help you for as long as you want. Or…until you find someone else…”

The thought puts a sour taste in your mouth, but the sudden dazzling smile on Vislos’ face distracts you from the idea. 

He wipes his mouth off and slips from the chair, moving to kneel in front of you, his hands wrapping around your own in your lap. He’s looking at your belly as he speaks. 

“It’s not easy finding someone like you. My father was lucky to find my mother, and I am incredibly lucky to have found you.” 

There’s a warmth growing in your middle as he speaks. 

“So, if you’ll have me, I should very much like to stay. And take care of you for as long as you allow it.”

The sheer devotion on his face, the unhindered truth he lets bleed into his words…it leaves you breathless. 

“I promise I will do everything in my power to make you happy.”

The gentle words are so at contrast with the strong, heavily built man kneeling before you, but yet…they ring true. Without a doubt, you know this man will make you the happiest woman in the world. 

**

“Can you hand me the tape?”

The ribbon hanging from your fingers sways slightly in the heat blowing from the unit, and Vislos does as you ask, passing the tape up to you while keeping a protective hand on your ankle. 

He hadn’t exactly been happy about you climbing the ladder, but you’d insisted and he relented, albeit reluctantly. 

Christmas is and always has been your absolute favorite holiday, and though you don’t have much, you always decorate. 

You finish taping the ribbon up, leaning back to make sure it’s level, and then clap your hands together, content with the placement. Vislos’ hand never leaves your leg, his fingers tight around your calf, and you smile, nodding down at him. 

“It’s perfect. Help me down.”

He doesn’t even hesitate to lift you off the ladder and place you gently on your feet, his fingers tight around your waist. You’re pretty sure this is the first time he’s taken a breath since you climbed the ladder. 

“Do you like it?” you ask, looking up at the lights and ribbons hanging over the window in your bedroom. The colors pair well with the tree and stockings in the living room. 

Vislos wraps his arms around your middle, his hand cupping the swell of your newest batch of eggs, and nods. 

“I like it much better now that you’re back on the floor.”

You scoff and slap his arm, but a smile tugs at your lips. His concern is nice. Makes you feel loved. 

“I can’t believe it’s been 5 months. Christmas break could not have come any faster.”

With final exams, studying, and just the general chaos of the end of year college preparations, Vislos hadn't laid his eggs in you for three whole weeks. And for those three weeks, you had both been miserable. You with your studying, and him trying to cope with his body readjusting to having to wait to lay. 

He never got as bad as the first time you met, but he’d been getting paler, weaker, napping more often. You knew it was affecting him, even if he wouldn’t admit it. The night you came home from your last exam, you found him knocked out on the couch, snoring softly. You just curled up into him and he wrapped himself around you, warm and comfortable. 

Now though, he looks lively as ever, his skin back to that dark tan you love so much. And the sparkle in his eyes is finally back. That’s what you’ve missed the most. 

“Do you celebrate Christmas?”

He looks down at you, his thumbs absently rubbing over the sides of your belly. “Not in the same sense as you. But I do usually go home and eat with my parents and brothers.”

You nod, resting your head back against his chest as his thumbs continue to make small little circles over the sides of your stomach. 

“Will I ever meet them?”

He nods, no hesitation. “If you’d like to. I had planned on going to visit them for the holiday, but you needed me more.”

The admission makes your gut warm, a growing fondness you only felt for him. 

“Maybe one day we can go visit. I’d like to meet them.” 

He hums softly, his hips swaying side to side.

“Fine with me. Just let me know when. I’ll call them and let them know.”

You relax into his arms, leaning back against him, and think back to when you’d first met, on the floor of the next door apartment. You still can’t believe it’s only been 5 months. It feels like years. 

“How would you feel about meeting my parents? I know it’s still early but…”

He pulls himself to full height and turns you around, pulling you into his front, a soft smile on his lips. 

“I’d love to. Just tell me when.”

You raise a brow up at him, holding his biceps. 

“Really? Just like that?”

He shrugs, shoulders bunching. 

“I’ll do anything for you. Especially if it’ll make you happy.”

If you were really pregnant, you’d probably be a sobbing mess on the floor from that comment. Even so, you’re still fairly close to tears at such an easy declaration of love. 

“Anything?” You ask, even if only to distract yourself from the intensity of your feelings for this man. 

It’s his turn to raise a brow now, looking down at you suspiciously. 

“Yes, anything. But don’t go getting any funny ideas,” he teases, lightly flicking your nose. 

You scrunch your nose up at him and he leans in to kiss it, playfully slapping your butt. 

“What are we going to do during your precious time off from school?” he asks, changing the subject. 

You sigh, laying your forehead on his chest. 

“I can think of a few things.”

“You can’t possibly want to do that every night for the entire break.”

“Why? Don’t think you’ll be able to keep up?”

He scoffs, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close. 

“I don’t think I’m the one with the stamina issues.”

“Psh, I’m not the one who fell asleep after one round.”

He groans and pinches your butt, making you yelp. 

“That’s not fair and you know it. There were extenuating circumstances.”

You laugh, looking up at him with your chin on his chest. 

“You’re right. It’s my fault you had to wait that long again. I’m sorry.”

His face softens and he cups your cheeks, pushing them together and turning your head side to side. 

“I already told you there was no need for apologies. I survived, and you passed, that’s what matters.”

You sigh and nod…or at least you try to with his hands still cupping your cheeks. He seems satisfied with the response though and leans in for a kiss, slow and sensual, making your legs grow weak. 

“Why don’t you start with a bath? You can use your new soap,” he suggests, and it’s the best idea you’ve ever heard. 

**

The steam of the bath fills the bathroom and you sigh, enjoying the heated water easing the tense muscles of your back. The weight around your middle is heavier than usual since he laid more eggs this time around. 

You run your fingers over the bump, letting the soap drip off your fingers as you imagine what it would be like if it was real. If you were really pregnant, carrying a new life inside of you. You’re surprised to find that you actually want that. That you want to feel the swell of your middle harden, to watch it contract as you push out your first of hopefully many children…

“What are you thinking about?”

Vislos interrupts your thoughts as he steps into the room and sits at the edge of the tub, his fingers resting on the knee that’s poking out of the water. 

You smile and lean back, watching the man you love admire the heavy swell of your middle. 

“Seeing you naked,” you answer, watching his face scrunch adorably. 

“You see me naked nearly every day you heathen.”

You laugh then, reaching up to grab his hand, pulling it into the water and placing it on top of your belly. 

His smile softens and his fingers spread over the underside of your belly, his thumb brushing softly over the side. 

“You’re close.”

You nod, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your body. You can recognize the signs now, and can tell when you’re getting closer to laying. It isn’t so much a guessing game anymore. 

“Wanna join me?”

His eyes lift to yours and he nods, not even hesitating to stand and strip out of his clothes. You watch, unashamed. 

His muscles shift and twitch as he kicks off his pants and you stare at his tentacle playfully poking out between his legs, raising a brow up at him. He looks back down at you with a smirk. 

“You’re hot. I can’t help it.”

The comment makes you snort, shaking your head in disappointment even as you sit up and allow him to shift into the bath behind you. His thighs wrap around your sides and his whole body envelops you, making you even warmer than before. 

He settles and the water just barely sloshes over the edge of the tub, making you sigh.

“You’re too big for this.”

He just grins, wrapping his arms around you, his hands rubbing the sides of your extended belly.

“That’s not what you said the other night.”

You roll your eyes, stifling your smile.

“And you call me a heathen.” 

He hums softly, his chest warm and heavy against your back.

“As I recall, you were the one undressing me every second you got.”

“I don’t remember you refusing,” you refute, slapping at his hand as his fingers wander to your breast. 

“How could I? When you look so delectable like this.”

He nips at the shell of your ear and you bite back a groan, not wanting to encourage him. He seems to dislike that though and he does it again, this time ignoring your warning and squeezing your heavy breasts. 

You let out a soft sigh, unable to hold it back, and you can feel his grin on the back of your neck.

“Bastard.”

“Yes but only your bastard.”

You shake your head, giving up on trying to keep him away. You didn’t want him to stop anyway. 

He took advantage of your defeat, now running his hands over your whole body, your breasts, your stomach, and then between your legs, pressing a few fingers into you.

You sigh and let your head fall back against his shoulder, enjoying the playful yet pleasurable way his fingers move. You’re close to orgasm when you feel a shift, somewhere deep inside you. 

“The eggs are coming,” you gasp softly, already feeling the heat and pleasure starting to build. His fingers stop moving though and you whine.

“Do you want to stop?”

The sentiment was nice, but there was nothing you wanted more than to lay these eggs in this tub while his fingers continued to move sinfully over your body. 

“Never.”

He huffs, his fingers moving again. “Good.”

**

It takes all of 30 minutes to lay the 12 eggs Vislos had planted inside you. With the help of several orgasms, it was a breeze. Vislos, horny as he is though, doesn’t waste the time pleasuring you even more. 

As you pushed, he played with your clit, slow at first and then speeding up, moving to the rhythm of the eggs stretching you open and then falling into the water of the tub. Their light green shells matched the beautiful green of his eyes and once again you’re left thinking about what it would be like to have children with him. 

Would they be like him? Would they look like him? Would they have any of your features? What would their personality be like? Vislos showed you pictures last week of his family, and his father’s features were more prominent, but you could still see his mother in his eyes.  

 Vislos and Eze both look much like their father, the broad builds and tanned skin. Uma though, he looks far more like his mother. Despite only being a few years apart, Uma looks so vastly different from the two, it's surprising to you that they’re related. 

The thought of giving that to Vislos, of providing a child that he could take care of and raise, that he could protect and dote on, it ached in your chest. You want it so badly. 

“There you go again, looking off into the distance. Are you still imagining me naked?”

You huff, your thoughts interrupted again. 

“No. Not this time.”

Vislos must hear the change in your tone because he stops running his hands over your now flat stomach, shifting slightly so he can look at you. 

“Are you ok?”

You smile at him and nod, lifting your soapy hand from the water and cupping his cheek. He accepts your kiss, his eyes going distant for a split second before zoning back in on you. 

“I just…I was thinking about what it would be like to have a child for real. Not right now of course,” you hurriedly add. You want to finish school first. “But later, down the line. We could settle down, have one or two kids, move to the mountains like your parents.”

He doesn’t say anything but his eyes are watery when you look back up at him, and you sit up, turning to straddle his lap as best you can in the confines of the tub. 

“What’s wrong? Did I say something? We don’t have to, I was just—“

“I’d like that,” he says softly, cutting you off with a finger to your lips. As goofy as he usually is, he knows when to be serious, and it always makes your heart jump in your chest. 

“Really?”

He nods, the most breathtaking smile on his face. 

“Of course. I want that more than you’ll ever know.”

Now your own eyes grow watery and you lean in closer, resting your forehead on his. You close your eyes and just breathe in, the scent of the lavender soap filling your nose. 

“When I finish school. I have a year and a half left. But I’m willing, if you are. Please,” you add, wanting him to realize just how serious you are about this. 

His fingers wrap around your waist tight, holding you still as he nods, his face splotchy with unshed tears. 

“I love you.”

**

The rest of winter break consists of you and Vislos enjoying your time together. He somehow manages to connect your switch to the tv and you both play Mario Kart and Overcooked, arguing louder than probably necessary when he knocks you off the rainbow road and arguing more when he doesn’t chop the veggies fast enough. 

It never gets heated though. He’s competitive, impressively so, but he never acts petty or annoyed when he loses. At least not that you can tell. 

You rarely leave the apartment, if only for groceries, and most of the time it’s just Vislos going to the corner store about a block from the apartment building. 

You force him to watch Hallmark Christmas movies, enjoying the disgust on his face every time the big city woman leaves her big time money husband for the small town country farmboy. He makes you hot chocolate, with marshmallows and cinnamon just how you like it, and then he lets you curl up into his side, smothered in big fluffy blankets. 

You could probably live on this couch forever. Here, with him, basking in his warmth and his gentle comfort, you’re content. Happy. Incredibly so. But school starts back in 2 days and you’re not ready for this to be over yet. 

He absentmindedly runs his fingers over your shoulder, brows furrowed as he watches the woman on the screen fumble through her monologue. You’re warm, full of hot chocolate, and his fingers send a thrill down your back with every stroke. 

You shift, putting your mug on the table, and pretend to get more comfortable. He keeps watching the movie, even as you tuck your face into the curve of his neck, and you place a kiss on the sensitive part of his neck, the same spot that always makes him squirm. 

He twitches and his breath hitches. 

“What are you doing?”

His voice is warm and delicious and it sends another thrill through your entire body. 

“Nothing,” you answer, even as you place another kiss on the underside of his jaw. 

He groans and pulls away.

“You heathen. Will you ever be satisfied?” he asks playfully. The flush on his face betrays his desire for you to keep going, and you shrug, running your fingers over the muscle of his thigh. 

“If you can’t keep up…” you tease, your fingers slipping between his legs. 

He raises a brow at the challenge in your voice. 

His tentacle starts moving under his boxers and you grin, satisfied, but he grabs your hand and pulls it away, pulling it to his lips instead. 

“You’ll be the death of me, you know.”

His fingers trail down to your wrist, thumbing your pulse, then he kisses your palm, making you squirm. 

“I think I’m the only thing keeping you alive actually,” you joke, leaning in to put a kiss to his lips. 

His eyes follow you the whole way but he doesn’t pull back. Doesn’t even try to stop you. You pull back and his eyes grow soft, a fond smile growing on his lips. 

“In more ways than you’ll ever know,” he answers, leaning in to kiss even deeper.

You melt into his touch, folding so easily as he lays you back on the couch, his thigh slipping between your legs. He settles his weight down on you and kisses over your jaw. 

“Put your eggs in me again, please. I want to feel full again.”

Your voice is hoarse and he shudders, his eyes growing hungry as he pulls away to look at you. 

“You sure? I can go another week if you—“

“I’m sure,” you interrupt, lifting your thigh to brush between his legs. 

His mouth falls open and his eyes squeeze shut, the way he always does when he’s trying to hold himself back. 

“Come on, please? It’s been a week already.” 

His fingers clench around your waist and you can feel them trembling. He’s clearly been waiting for this too. 

He lets out a shuddering sigh and sits up, pushing his boxers to his knees and you squirm with anticipation. 

“Fuck yes.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes at your enthusiasm, but he’s clearly just as eager, his tentacle already inching its way out. 

He takes a moment to slip your sleep shorts off, leaving you bare below the waist, and then he turns you onto your side, slipping behind you. His favorite position. He really likes to feel your stomach swell. 

“Keep still,” he whispers, his breath brushing over the back of your neck as his hand creeps under your shirt, making you twitch. You don’t even realize your hips are moving until he says that. 

“Sorry,” you mutter but he doesn’t bother to respond, his lips already moving over your neck to suck on the disappearing bruise. He likes that too. Leaving marks. 

His calloused fingers brush up against your breast and you let out a breathy moan. His tentacle, warm and wet, slips between your legs, and you lift a leg over Vislos’ thigh. 

It plays with you at first, slipping through your slick folds over and over, teasing you enough to make you whimper. Vislos, the dickhead, is thumbing over your nipple while massaging your breast, his lips doing wonderful things to the back of your neck. It’s just enough to bring you to the edge, but not enough to push you over. 

“I swear to god, you better fuck me before I cum or so help me—“

Vislos chuckles, stuffing two fingers into your mouth and you groan. He presses his hips down into you, effectively crushing you between him and the couch cushion. You debate biting his fingers until that tentacle finally, blessedly, slips into your slick heat. 

It’s so sudden and warm it nearly breaks you, but you breathe through the growing warmth, letting your mouth fall open, your tongue wrapping around his fingers. 

He groans and the sound echoes through you. It’s so needy. 

His hips buck into you and you cry out, unable to move your hips back. He just keeps going, the tentacle pushing and pushing, filling you until finally, you feel that familiar pinching sensation. 

A muffled fuck comes from behind you and a whimper follows as Vislos takes his fingers from your mouth and puts his hand over your stomach instead. His hand is so big it nearly covers the whole expanse. 

“Yes, yes fuck. Lay your eggs in me,” you cry out, and Vislos shudders with a groan. Then eggs slip into you faster than they ever have. Desperate whimpers come from the man inside you and you lose it. Over the edge from his noises and the deep push and pull of the eggs, pleasure coursing through every inch of you, making you hot and cold all at once, and Vislos…he just keeps going. 

“Unnffhhh, fuuuck,” he groans, his finger tips pressing into your growing stomach, and you nearly cum again, just from the pitiful noises escaping his lips once more. You’re really lost for this man. 

His hips stutter, his gasps growing louder, and then he collapses on top of you in a heap, smothering you. 

“Vislos,” you groan, smacking his thigh until he moves. 

His fingers tremble on your waist as he rolls off of you, once again moving behind you, the big spoon to your little spoon. 

“Sorry,” he says, his chest still heaving. “You ok?”

You nod, your breathing finally settling down. 

“Fine. Better than fine. Thank you.”

He huffs, pulling you impossibly closer, and kisses your shoulder. 

“Pretty sure I’m the one that should be saying that but you’ve turned my brain to mush.”

You open your mouth to respond but a moan slips out as he pulls out of you, leaving you feeling empty again. At least your stomach is full of eggs. It’s a feeling you’re starting to get used to, and you don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. 

“You’ve turned my insides to mush so I think we’re even.” 

A snort sounds from behind you and you grin, pulling his arm tighter around your chest. He has a handful of your boob, something he likes to do after intense sex, or really, just anytime he can get his hands on them. You like it, but you’ll never tell him that. If you did, he’d be unstoppable. 

“I can’t believe Christmas break is almost over.” 

He hums, his fingers squeezing and then letting go, acknowledging you without words. He must be really tired. 

“Wanna go to bed? Before you fall asleep here?”

“Mm mm,” he murmurs, shaking his head for extra emphasis. He just curls himself around you like one big teddy bear and you grin, hugging his arm close to your chest. 

“Very well. Good night. I love you.”

He at least deigns to answer those words, lifting himself just enough to kiss your jaw, whispering I love you into your ear, and then he’s gone again. Not 5 minutes pass before he’s softly snoring, the noise rumbling through you. 

“Sleepyhead,” you mutter, but the smile never leaves your face. Not even as you drift into the best sleep you’ve ever had in your entire life. 

**

He meets your parents about 7 months into your relationship, and he has them wrapped around his finger the second they lay eyes on him. Your father, hard headed as he is, loves him, and your mom about swoons the first time Vislos cooks dinner for them. 

They pull you to the side before leaving, and they sing his praises, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And then Vislos nearly cries when you tell him how much they love him. He had been so scared, no matter how hard you tried to convince him he was fine. You just hug him, letting him work through his emotions, and then he makes love to you through the night, nearly making you late for your early morning class. 

By the time spring break rolls around, you both visit his family for the first time. They welcome you with open arms, his mom absolutely delighted to hear he’s found someone to take care of him. 

His father, a quiet but firm man, gives him a pat on the back, and has to turn away as his eyes well up. He’s proud, that much is obvious. 

His brothers are mostly the same, just a little less emotional. Or at least better at hiding it. 

Eze is a rambunctious man and Uma is more refined, but he easily keeps up with their banter. Uma is smaller, but no less handsome, and if your future kid turns out anything like them, you’ll celebrate and thank whatever god exists that this is the life you were given. 

Vislos’ mom pulls you to the side one night to ask how you’ve been managing, and she explains in no small detail just how different the breeding process is compared to the normal egg laying. Despite the difficulty, and the possible danger, you haven’t changed your mind, and she seems to be relieved at that realization. 

After spending a week with his family, watching Vislos joke around and play fight with his brothers, more relaxed than he’s been since you met him, and realizing just exactly what you could have one day, it makes you all the more determined to finish school. 

More than once you host study groups at the apartment, Vislos the handsome host as always, and you even earn several pats on the back for bagging “a good one”. You just roll your eyes at them, but you agree. He really is the perfect man. 

The month before finals, you take a very much needed break from school, if only for the night, and Vislos takes you out for a real, proper date. Your one year anniversary. 

You’ve been to dinner together before of course, and even to the movies a few times, but this time Vislos goes all out. 

Though, when he first walks out of your room with a suit on, you have the mind to just stay inside the rest of the night. He had the same thought seeing you in your bright red dress, form fitting around your smaller waist and supple chest. He almost didn’t let you walk out of the apartment. 

The restaurant is fancy, downtown, something you would normally eat at only once in a lifetime. The wine is absolutely delectable, the food even better, and by the time you leave, you have a food belly, peeking out through your tight dress. Vislos loves it and you don’t even make it home before he gets his hands on you, making you cum twice with his fingers and tongue alone. 

By the time finals week arrives, you’re both miserable, him a little more so, if only because you won’t let him touch you lest you get distracted from studying. That doesn’t keep him from taking care of you though. And when bed time rolls around, he is always there, ready to wrap you in his arms. 

You always feel bad when you keep him from laying, but he constantly assures you that while he may feel ill, it’ll never be as bad as when you first met. Not unless you go months apart. It doesn’t help you feel better at all, but you focus on studying anyway, knowing this is the best way you can help him. 

He treats you better than you treat yourself most days, and now that the end is near, you can’t wait to give him what he truly wants.

**

Finishing school is the hardest thing you’ve ever done, but you’re determined. You have a promise on the line. 

And truthfully, that promise isn’t the only thing driving you. Vislos is just the most perfect boyfriend and you’re genuinely excited to be able to spend life with him when school is over. You want to travel and explore with him, to just be with him for the rest of your life. And if the way he treats you says anything, he wants that too. Desperately. 

So when you walk across the stage, dressed in a garnet robe, tassels dangling from your neck, your graduation cap sitting crooked on your head, it’s Vislos’ face you look for in the crowd. It’s his face beaming back at you, surrounded by your parents and his mother who so graciously made the trip to watch you graduate. 

Tears burn in your eyes but you blink them away. This is your day. This is the day you’ve been waiting for, and you won’t let the tears smear your makeup. 

**

“Hi, my lovely graduate.”

You grin and melt into Vislos’ arms. He kisses all over your face, picking you up and spinning you around once for good measure. His mom smacks him in the arm, but the smile on her face is evidence enough that she is just as happy as he is. 

“Oh dear, you look lovely. I’m so proud of you.”

Vislos releases you long enough for you to hug your dad and mom, and she winks at you as Vislos moves right back to your side. He refuses to let you go, even during dinner, and during the drive back home. He’s always touching you, a hand on your side, a hand on your thigh, it’s comforting. 

He stops just long enough to park the car and open your door, and then he’s carrying you to the elevator and over the threshold of your shared apartment. 

His fingers are warm on your waist and legs, the smell of his cologne curls in your nose and makes you feel fuzzy inside. 

“You can put me down now, you know.” You say it but you don’t really mean it. You like being in his arms. 

Apparently he knows that too because he just smirks and readjusts his grip. 

“I have a surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

You grin, kicking your feet a little before closing your eyes, just as he asks. 

“No peeking,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath brushing over your ear. 

“No promises.”

He huffs, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again. 

“Ok. Open them.”

You peek first, squinting to see what could possibly be going on, but your eyes open fully when you realize just what it is. 

The bedroom, the one you’ve been sharing with him nearly since the day you met, is absolutely covered in rose petals and candles, the scent of roses and lavender strong enough to make your nose itch. He sets you down on your feet and you gaze in awe up at him, eyes wide. 

“I know I say this a lot, but meeting you, knowing you, has been the most amazing gift I could ever ask for. I never once thought I would be this lucky. But…” he pauses, taking a deep breath, and then you feel tears prick at your eyes for the second time today as he gets down on one knee and continues…

“You are the most amazing woman, so smart and headstrong, sassy and funny. You make waking up in the morning worth it every single day, even if you put ketchup on your eggs.”

You snort, ugly tears falling down your cheeks now. 

He grins up at you, his eyes watery as he pulls a small red box from his jacket pocket.

“I can’t live without you, nor do I want to. I want to grow old with you, and listen to you complain about your day. I want to have kids with you, when you’re ready, and I want to go on so many adventures. I promise to spoil you, to take care of you, and to always treat you with respect. So, my love…” he says, opening the red box to reveal one of the most gorgeous diamond rings you’ve ever seen. “Will you marry me?”

The answer is obvious. To you, to him, to anyone who has the chance to witness his love for you in person, but you still nod your head emphatically, wiping away the ugly tears. 

“Yes, oh my god yes. I love you so much.”

His shoulders sag in relief and he stands, pulling you into a gut melting kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist the way they always do. 

He pulls away long enough to put the ring on your finger, his fingers shaking just as bad as yours. 

“I love you so much. And I promise to love you for the rest of our lives.”

Heart achingly full, you nod and kiss him again, the weight of the ring on your finger a forever reminder of the man you will love for the rest of your life. 

**

The wedding is small, but still, it’s everything you’ve ever wished for. Your parents join, all of Vislos’ family, and a number of friends from school. In total the ceremony lasts about 30 minutes, and the remainder of the time is spent hanging out with everyone. 

You can finally feel the stress falling off of you in waves. It may be a small ceremony, but there has been so much planning involved. Vislos hasn’t been able to lay in a few weeks so he’s pretty subdued, and you can see the faint tremble in his fingers, but that doesn’t keep his face from brightening whenever you get near him. He’s tired, but he’s happy, and he’s already promised retaliation later tonight. You look forward to it. 

**

About five months after the wedding, it’s time to set your plans in motion. You can’t exactly tell your parents you’re pregnant like normal women, considering it doesn’t take as long for the eggs to hatch. So instead, you wait a bit, just enjoying being Vislos’ wife. He gets back into his normal rhythm of laying weekly, and he looks all the better for it. And every time you both go out, you get compliments on your belly, and how you’re glowing. 

One morning, you’re dressed in a simple yellow sundress, sandals, and a floppy hat, taking maternity photos for the first time. Your hair is being unruly but you ignore it, focusing more on the bump of your belly under your dress. Your friend Sarah is just a few feet away, instructing you on how to pose as she snaps pictures. 

You waited a few days after Vislos laid so you would be a little bigger, and with your hand tucked under your belly, holding the dress up against it, your bump is pretty pronounced. Just convincing enough to be over halfway through a pregnancy. 

Sarah seems convinced enough. She keeps complimenting you and how good you look. And then when Vislos joins the pictures, she gushes over how good you both look together. You’d be jealous if you didn’t know how head over heels Vislos is for you. 

The pictures turn out so good, you print all of them and frame a few of them, placing them around the apartment. You also tuck two into a box, along with a onesie that reads *1st Grandchild*. Vislos is kind enough to offer to take it to the postal office for you, and you just know you’ll soon be getting a very excited phone call. 

Vislos’ parents already know the plan, and have been incredibly supportive. His father, Mr. Prathy, has been very kind, giving you answers to all of your questions, keeping you and Vislos sane, and they’ve also helped plan how to handle all of this. Even still, you send them a picture as well, along with another similar onesie. Even if they already know, you want them to be included.

Vislos comes up behind you just as you finish writing the names on the labels. His warm hands wrap around your waist, cupping your heavy middle, and you grin and lean back into him. 

“Ready for bed?” he asks, setting his chin down on your shoulder. His thumbs are slowly rubbing up and down the sides of your belly and it feels so damn good. 

“It’s only 9 o’clock.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice when he responds. 

“More time for me to make love to my beautiful, perfect wife.”

Your heart flutters and sends warmth shooting through you. His wife. That’s what you are. 

You turn around to face him, leaning back against the table and Vislos follows, leaning in closer now. 

“And what if your wife doesn’t want to go to bed just yet?”

His brow raises and his lips quirk up.

“I’m flexible.”

He lifts you up onto the table then, pushing himself between your legs, and you gasp.

“This is not what I had in mind.”

He shrugs though, and trails a finger over your breast, the thin nightgown you have on doing nothing to keep your nipples from being visible. 

“Are you saying you don’t want it?” he asks, looking at you as if you would be his last meal. 

Heat thrums through you and you shake your head, unable to use words anymore. He just smirks and leans in, trailing his lips over your jaw. You sigh, letting your head fall back, and he takes advantage of the new space, suckling over your neck, down to your shoulder. His hands trail up your thighs, pushing the nightgown up with them, and then he’s getting on his knees, putting your thighs over his shoulders. 

“Here?” you ask, breathlessly, leaning back slightly. This is probably the only time you’ll curse the swell of your middle, because you so wish you could see him right now.

He just hums, his breath so hot between your legs. 

“I just want to taste you,” he mumbles, and then he’s there, pressing his tongue between your folds. Pleasure builds slow and steady, his tongue pressing in and out, occasionally swirling around your clit, and you struggle to stay upright. 

“Vislos…fuck.”

He hums again, adding a finger to the mess between your legs, and your arms tremble. He pulls you closer, so you’re just barely hanging over the edge, and you fall back, arching your back into the feeling of his finger pushing in and out of you. He just keeps going, letting the pressure build and build and build, and by god you’re so close.

“Please,” you beg, unable to form other words. “Please,” you ask, hoping he knows what you’re asking for. And thankfully, he does. 

He delves deeper, the sound of his tongue slipping in and out of you so loud and lewd, and he increases the pressure on your clit, circling and circling and then your thighs clench, crushing his head between them, but he keeps going. 

Your gut grows so warm so fast, your nipples tingling, and then you’re lost. An orgasm rips through you, making you tremble around him, your thighs squeezing around his head, your hips bucking against his persistent tongue. It lasts so long you think you might pass out, but then it stops, and you’re gasping for breath, legs limp over his shoulders. 

He rubs your thighs, kissing over the insides of them, making you twitch at the feeling. 

“You okay?”

You don’t even have enough breath to respond so you huff, reaching down to grab his fingers and squeeze. He stands carefully, keeping you from falling off the table, and then you’re in his arms. 

“That was intense,” you mumble into his throat, finally catching your breath.

“Good intense?” he asks, genuinely. He’s always very careful after such a big orgasm, taking care of you before continuing. 

You just nod, the smile on your face evidence enough. 

That night, he holds you as you push out his eggs, twelve beautifully green shelled eggs. They’re soft and pliable, empty of life, but still so important, because very soon they will be alive. And you can’t wait. 

**

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Vislos nods, despite his pale complexion and the small beads of sweat on his forehead. The ride to his parents is a long one, and you’ve offered to drive multiple times, but he keeps refusing. It started only a few hours in, but he started getting warm, pale, his fingers trembling around the wheel. It reminds you a little too much of how he looked when you first met each other. 

“Why don’t we pull over and get some snacks or something? Your dad said you needed to stay hydrated and keep your energy up.”

He hesitates, clearly not wanting to stop, but he thinks better of it and pulls off the highway, finding a gas station, parking in one of the several empty spots. 

“You stay in the car, I’ll be right back.”

He tries to argue but he can’t even muster the energy to reach across the console. It’s terrifying seeing him like this. 

Inside the gas station, you start grabbing protein bars and several drinks, but you also call Mr. Prathy. Just for some assurance. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t have easy words to assuage your concerns. 

“Get him some food and water. Gatorade too. Make sure he drinks all of at least one of them. His body is already trying to prepare for birth and he’s getting weak. Can you handle driving the rest of the way? We will meet you at the bottom of the mountain.”

“Yes, I can do that. I’ll call you when we get close.”

“Okay, good girl. Keep my son safe, please.”

“Yes, of course. Talk to you soon.”

You hang up and check out, your bag full of random snacks and drinks, and by the time you get back to the car, Vislos looks worse. 

“Vislos? Hey, wake up.” You pat his cheek gently, his skin hot to touch.

His eyes flutter open and you frown, pulling a water out of the bag. 

“Drink this. I’m going to drive the rest of the way.”

You know he feels miserable because he doesn’t even argue. You just help him walk around to the passenger side and he collapses into the seat with a soft grunt.

He lifts the water to his lips, thankfully able to do that on his own, and you hurry around the other side.

“You need to eat too. Here,” you say, opening one up for him. “Eat this.”

He takes it, to your relief, and starts eating as you pull out of the parking lot, the GPS already pointing you back to the highway.

The rest of the drive you focus half on the road and half on Vislos, monitoring his condition. The food and water seem to help him and he’s more lucid now, but every hour that passes makes his eyes droop further and further. 

He’s resting, his head lulling to the side when you call Mr. Prathy back, letting him know you’re close.

“How’s he doing?”

You glance at him before responding.

“He’s eaten 4 of the protein bars I bought and had 2 waters and a gatorade. He’s still pale but he’s not trembling anymore. He’s asleep right now.”

There’s some voices in the background and Mr. Prathy responds to them before answering you.

“Let him rest. We will meet you soon. You’re doing great.”

You don’t realize how much you need the reassurance until he says that. And then you suddenly feel like you’re on the verge of tears. 

“Is he gonna be okay?”

There’s a long pause, followed by another sound in the background, and then Mr. Prathy sighs softly.

“He will be. He’s strong. Just keep him alive until you get here.”

You just nod, unable to form any more words through the lump in your throat. 

**

Mr. Prathy is waiting for you as soon as you pull onto the road that leads to their house. You put the car in park and he’s there in seconds, checking on his son. 

“Vislos? Can you hear me? Wake up son.”

You watch, unable to move, barely able to breathe. Vislos is slow to respond, his words slurred, and your nerves are shot to hell. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, nearly begging. 

Mr. Prathy doesn’t answer, his brow furrowed. He pats Vislos’ cheek, waking him up again, and you struggle to hold back your tears. Vislos’ mom comes up to your side of the car, distracting you long enough to get you in the back seat. All you can do is watch.

“He’s out of it. We need to go.” Mr. Prathy gets into the backseat just as the car starts moving, and then he’s between the front seats, holding Vislos’ head steady.

“Stay with me son. Dad’s here.”

You’re numb, unable to speak or move or anything…

“...okay? Love, look at me.”

You blink, not even realizing Mr. Prathy is speaking to you. 

“He’s rough but he’ll pull through. You did a good job getting him here.”

You want to sob, to break down, but Mr. Prathy is so sure that everything is going to be fine, and you believe him. 

“He still needs to lay the egg, and his body will know what to do. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wipe your face and nod, determined to make sure Vislos is ok. 

“Good. My son chose very well. You’ll make him happy.”

Tears prick at your eyes again but you blink them away, focusing instead on Vislos. 

He’s not as pale anymore, thankfully. Probably because of Mr. Prathy sharing his energy with him. He’d once explained it to you but human terms weren’t exactly comparable to the terms he wanted to use, so you didn’t really understand a lot of it. 

The part you do know though is that this process is usually better handled with a lot of people, hence the trip up here in the first place. Mr. Prathy had expected some complications due to Vislos’ half human genes, but watching him now, you’re not entirely sure he thought it would be this bad. 

The rest of the car ride is quiet, occasionally broken by Mr. Prathy checking in with Vislos, and by the time the car pulls up in front of the house, Vislos is talking in full sentences again. Still pale, still shaky, but not out of it. 

You’re helped out of the car by Vislos’ mom, and then Eze and Uma come running down the driveway, helping Vislos stand up. Uma’s smaller form is nearly swallowed by Vislos’ size but he’s stronger than he seems, not even stumbling under his older brother’s weight. They carry him inside, and Mr. Prathy hurries after them, looking a little pale himself. 

“Come on, love. Let’s get you inside.”

You nod and follow, the stress of the last several hours starting to catch up with you. 

Inside, Vislos is on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Eze is right next to him, talking to him softly, concern written all over his face for his brother. Uma has his head resting on Vislos’ shoulder, one arm wrapped around his back. The genuine concern and care they show for each other nearly makes you cry again. 

Mr. Prathy comes back from the kitchen, wet washcloth in hand. 

“Don’t wait any longer. You may be feeling better now, but it won’t last. You need to do this while your energy is up.”

Despite the gentle authority in his voice, you can still hear the fear just under it. The realization that they could lose their son. You may love Vislos, but they’ve known him his whole life. 

You don’t want to think about it anymore. 

Careful hands pull you from your thoughts, drawing you back to the situation at hand. 

“We’ll leave you two to handle this. We won’t be far though. Call us if anything happens, okay?”

You nod, watching Vislos’ mom pull away, moving to grab Mr. Prathy and head towards the back bedroom. Eze puts his forehead to Vislos’, whispering something you can’t hear, and Vislos nods. Uma is hesitant to leave, but Vislos gives him a lazy smile, reassuring him. And damn if he’s not still insanely attractive, even when he’s unwell. 

The room is suddenly empty, except for you and Vislos, and you look at him, stiff and uncomfortable looking on the couch. He gives you a small smile and holds a hand out, which you take instantly, climbing into his lap. 

“This is not how this was supposed to go.”

Vislos shakes his head, his hands moving around your waist, his thumbs slipping under your shirt. 

“No. But it’ll be a fun story to tell.”

You frown down at him. 

“That’s not funny.”

He chuckles, his eyes bright despite the fever running through him. 

“I thought it was.”

If he wasn’t so miserable, you’d slap him. 

“Stop making bad jokes and tell me what you need me to do. You’ve waited long enough.”

His smile fades a bit, his eyes pinched slightly. 

“I don’t think I can move. Are you ok on the couch?”

You nod then hesitate.

“What if we ruin their couch?”

Vislos huffs, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion. 

“I’m sure they won’t mind us ruining their couch if it means I am alive.”

“Fair point,” you mutter, crawling off his lap. 

There’s already a comforter and pillows laid out in the area, so you lay a blanket over the back of the couch at least, so you can grab it if needed. 

“Can you help me get my pants off?”

You nod, doing just that. He lifts his hips and you pull his sweatpants down, tossing them somewhere on the floor. 

“This feels like deja vu,” you whisper, stripping out of your own clothes and crawling back into his lap, naked. 

His eyes rake up and down over your body, appreciating the view and you can’t help but enjoy it. 

“At least this time, you’re my wife and not the hot stranger next door.”

You raise a brow at that. 

“You thought I was hot? I didn’t even know you noticed me.”

He grins, his hands shifting over your waist and down to grab your ass, squeezing.

“How could I not? You weren’t exactly subtle.”

The sudden realization that he knew exactly what you’d been doing all that time ago…

“You asshole! You should’ve told me about that!”

He huffs, a gorgeously playful look on his face.

“And risk you leaving me out of embarrassment? Never.”

“That is not fair.”

He winks, squeezing your waist.

“I know.”

You shake your head, shifting slightly so you’re sitting more on his lap.

“You’re lucky I love you,” you grumble. 

He nods, serious now, his thumbs making small circles on your ribs. 

“I am. So very lucky.”

The feelings he holds for you are so plain on his face, you can’t help but lean in and kiss him, wanting to taste him. And he doesn’t hesitate to do the same, his lips locking with yours, his fingers moving all over your bare skin. 

His tentacle starts to wiggle between your legs, so incredibly warm.

“Is it time?” you ask, breathless as you pull away.

He lets out a muffled groan, nodding. 

Excitement, fear, anxiety…it all twists inside you, making you nervous. But for everything, you’re so excited for this. It’s what you’ve always wanted. 

“Let’s have a baby,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at his earlobe. He lets out a broken moan and his hands are a vice on your waist. 

You kiss over his neck, finding that one spot that always makes him squirm, and you feel his hips buck up into you, his tentacle a steady pressure between your legs. 

It feels just as amazing as usual, but it’s so much warmer. Nearly searing. So is Vislos’ face.

Everything about him is hot right now, but you’re mostly concerned about the pale complexion starting to come back. 

“Just breathe baby, I’m right here.”

Vislos’ eyes flutter open and he looks up at you. His eyes are glossy and unfocused, but his fingers squeeze you, letting you know he’s still here with you. 

You lean in, putting your forehead to his, and just let him do his thing. You stretch around his tentacle fairly easily, at least until it starts getting to the base. It’s bigger and stiffer than usual, but despite the slight discomfort, it still feels amazing. 

“You’re doing great, baby,” you whisper softly, kissing over his temple, holding him close. His breath brushes over your throat, his chest heaving slightly. You reach for a bottle of water from the end table and he accepts it when you put it to his lips. 

His fingers flex and then squeeze, his hips stuttering and you hear his pained gasp. Bottle of water forgotten, he puts his forehead to your shoulder, trembling heavily. You keep running your fingers through his hair, whispering encouragement every now and then. 

It gets so hot between your legs suddenly that you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair on accident. He whimpers, his abs twitching. It feels like an iron rod is branding you, searing your insides and marking you as his, which is not something you mind at all. And then it starts expanding, spreading you open. 

“That is so much bigger than usual,” you gasp out, looking down between you and him. Pleasure courses through you even as Vislos struggles, his shoulders so tense. 

“You ok,” you ask softly, squeezing the back of his neck. 

He nods, barely perceptible, and you let him focus. He’s getting pale again, more beads of sweat starting to gather on his brow. The tremble in his fingers is more pronounced now and you can tell he’s running out of energy. Fast. 

“Want me to call your family back? You don’t look good.” 

He lets out a pained gasp, his head falling to your chest, nestled just above your breasts. “I’m close. Just give me a few more minutes.”

You hesitate but eventually nod, respecting his wishes. You cradle his head, holding him as he tenses up, his mouth falling open on a silent scream as the egg pushes through him and into you. It’s so heavy and thick, feeling like a damn bowling ball forcing its way inside you. 

It gets stuck for a moment, both of you tense and struggling to breathe, and then it suddenly shifts, slipping into you and all the way through to your cervix. You watch in awe as your stomach gains a little pouch, smaller than the usual batches of eggs, but still noticeable. 

“You did it, baby! You did so well.”

Vislos shudders, breathing heavily. He looks up at you, barely mustering up a small smile before his eyes roll back into the back of his head. His body goes completely limp.

Panic sets in and you lean forward to cup his cheeks.

“Vislos? Hey, wake up! Mr. Prathy!” you cry out, and footsteps come running instantly.

It’s a flurry of movement, too many people, not enough space, and soon Mr. Prathy, Eze, and Uma are all gathered around Vislos, wiping his face and talking softly to each other. 

Vislos’ mom wraps a fluffy robe around you, covering your naked form, and you break down sobbing in her arms. She just holds you close, comforting you while watching her husband and sons. 

**

You wake in a daze, a heavy weight in your middle. The room swirls around you, the lamp on the bedside table barely illuminating the room. 

Gentle hands settle on your shoulders and you blink up at Uma.

“Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

You groan, letting your head fall back to the pillow, covering your face. 

“Like I got hit by a freight train. How’s Vislos?”

Uma hums, pulling your hand away from your face to offer a glass of water.

“He’s sleeping still. But Dad says he’ll be ok. Mom is with him now. She sent me to wake you up and see how you were doing.”

The relief that bowls through you nearly puts you right back to sleep. 

“Can I see him?”

Uma nods, slipping off the edge of the bed. 

“Of course. He’s in the living room. I’ll get you some food.”

You’re so incredibly thankful for Vislos and his family. They have never once made you feel like an outsider.

You slip out of the bed, surprised to find you’re dressed in your pajamas, but grateful nonetheless. At least you weren’t naked around his family anymore. 

There’s a small lamp on in the living room but it hardly gives off enough light. You can just barely make out the outline of Vislos’ mom sitting up on the couch. You slip into the room quietly, moving to the front of the couch to find Vislos snoring softly, his head laying in his mom’s lap. Eze is passed out sitting on the floor, leaning back against the end of the couch, a hand on Vislos’ ankle. His mom sets her books down, and runs her fingers through Vislos’ hair. 

“Hi love,” she says softly, giving you a smile. 

You smile back at her, happy to see Vislos is really just sleeping soundly.

“How is he?” you ask quietly, not wanting to disturb them. 

She smiles down at you as you settle down next to the couch, setting a hand on Vislos’ curled fingers. 

“Much better now. He woke up about an hour ago to make sure you were alright and then he passed out again. It will take him some time to recover, but he’ll be fine.”

You nod, pulling his fingers to your lips.

“Where is Mr. Prathy?”

“Sleeping. He overdid himself, even if he won’t admit it. Eze took over a few hours ago, making sure Vislos had enough energy to recover.”

“I’m sorry we caused such a stir. I didn’t know it would be so…scary.”

She laughs softly, still running her fingers through Vislos’ hair. 

“Kids will scare you, whether they’re human or not. It’s just how it goes. It took me forever to even convince Prathy to try. I think he was worried something like this would happen to us. But we didn’t have the help Vislos has now.”

You lean into the couch, still holding Vislos’ hand. 

“Was it hard? To adapt to having non-human kids?”

She hums softly.

“Of course it was. I think you’ll find that there’s an adjustment that comes with any big change like this. But Prathy and I worked together, and we figured it out. Just like you and Vislos will. I’m sure of it.”

Her words help ease some of the anxiety looping around in your brain. At least for now. 

Footsteps sound behind you and Uma appears from the kitchen, holding a plate and what looks like a glass of orange juice. 

“Here, you should eat.”

You take the plate and thank him, devouring the sandwich so quickly he chuckles and gets up to make you another one without you having to ask. You’re halfway through the second sandwich when Vislos wakes up, his eyes fluttering open.

You nearly choke on your food in your attempt to talk to him.

“Baby, hi,” you whisper, still coughing from the sandwich going down the wrong pipe. 

Vislos groans softly, rubbing his face.

“Hi.” His voice sounds worse than yours. Like he’s been gargling razor blades. 

He looks around, seeing Eze on the floor, then his mom behind him, and he sighs. 

“How long have I been out?”

“A little over 24 hours. Do you want to sit up?”

He groans but nods, lightly kicking Eze’s hand off his ankle, waking Eze from his sleep. 

He wavers slightly when he sits up, but he doesn’t pass out again. Thankfully. 

“I need to go check on your father. Don’t stand up too fast, and make sure you eat something. Uma!” his mom calls, drawing Uma out of the kitchen. 

“Make your brother a sandwich or two, and put some in the fridge for your dad.”

Uma nods, doing just that. Eze groans, standing up off the floor, stretching.

“Remind me never to sleep on the floor again. My back is going to hate me for that.”

"No one asked you to do that. In case you decide to blame me for this later.”

Eze chuckles, patting Vislos on the back softly.

“I only have one twin. You can’t get rid of me that easily. But I swear to god if you scare me like that again, I’ll kill you myself.”

Vislos smirks, slapping Eze’s arm off his shoulder. 

“Good luck with that. You couldn’t beat me and you know it.”

“Right now, you’re a pretty easy target,” Eze says grinning, lightly slapping the back of Vislos’ head. 

Vislos huffs and slaps his hand away, and then Eze turns to you, still grinning.

“Take care of my brother. He’s not good at doing that for himself, apparently.”

“Shut up, Eze. Go eat something before you pass out,” Vislos interrupts before you can even try to answer. 

Eze gives him a mock salute and then disappears into the kitchen, now quarreling with Uma if the noise echoing from the kitchen is anything to go by. 

Vislos still looks tired, but he has a light in his eyes now, one that was definitely not there yesterday. 

“Are you sure you’re feeling better?” you ask, still scared he might keel over. 

He looks back at you and nods, pulling you up onto the couch, tucking you up against his side. 

“Much better. How are you feeling?” he asks softly, his large hand settling over your stomach. 

“Surprisingly amazing, despite everything. I can’t believe we really did it. We’re having a baby.”

“We are,” Vislos agrees, his grin dazzling. He leans in for a kiss and you accept, so thankful to see him back in a playful mood and no longer on death’s door. 

“No more scaring me like that, okay?”

Vislos pulls away and nods, serious again.

“I promise. I shouldn’t have waited so long. Next time, we’ll be better prepared.”

You raise a brow.

“Next time?”

He just huffs, a smirk forming on his lips. 

“Of course. I expect at least a family of 10.”

“Ha. I think your brain is still scrambled. Try that again.”

He rolls his eyes but kisses your forehead, making a big wet noise as he pulls away.

“I guess I can settle for 5.”

You can’t hold back your laugh anymore, and it feels so good to relax and fall back into your familiar rhythm with him. His face softens and he cups your cheek, caressing it. 

“I love your laugh.”

You roll your eyes but lean in, putting a kiss to his temple and then pull away.

“I love you. All of you. Let’s go to bed.”

His eyes glitter up at you as you stand, and he doesn’t put up any fight as he follows you down the hall to his old bedroom, the same one you share every time you visit. 

Both of you fall asleep in seconds, his arm wrapped around you, his hand protectively covering your belly. And it’s probably the best sleep you’ve had in a while. 

**

“Emma Grace, get down from there!”

You watch in horror as your 4 year old daughter dangles precariously from the tree in the front yard, far too high up for your liking. 

Vislos, the ass, plucks her up out of the tree and blows raspberries into her belly, making her squeal. 

“How did she even get up there?” you ask, exasperated. Vislos is an amazing father, and always will be, but sometimes you wondered where his brain was. 

“I put her up there. She said she wanted to go high. Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

Emma Grace nods emphatically, her blonde curls bouncing on her head. Her dress is absolutely ruined, and she has a scrape on her knee, but you suppose it could be worse. At least the dress can be washed. 

“Ok well next time, don’t let me find out. I can’t handle that.”

Vislos chuckles and nods, kissing your cheek and getting Emma Grace to do that same. 

“You heard Mommy. Next time, we won't tell her you went high!” he says, just as he tosses her up into the air, making her squeal and giggle all over again. 

You roll your eyes and shake your head, but…it’s endearing. She loves him so much. And so do you. 

“How’s Levi? Did he finally go to sleep?”

You nod, accepting his arm around your waist, heading back to the house. Emma Grace scrambles out of his arms and takes off, nearly tripping over her feet at the foot of the stairs. 

“He passed out about 30 minutes ago, milk drunk and with a clean diaper. Your mom is watching him.”

Vislos nods, grinning, lazily pressing you up against the stair railing. 

“Guess that means we can have some alone time, huh? I haven’t had you to myself in too long.”

You grin, looking up at him, his eyes glittering. 

“The last time you said that, you convinced me to have another baby.” The very baby currently stretching out your belly, pressing up against Vislos’ abs. 

He smirks, leaning in. “And you look very beautiful carrying our newest baby.”

You slap his shoulder but it does nothing but make him nip at your ear. 

“I thought we agreed on 2?” you say, but you’re distracted. He’s kissing over your neck, under your jaw, pulling your shirt to the side to mouth at your collar bone. 

“I agreed to at least 2,” he mumbles, his breath hot on your skin. 

“Semantics,” you grumble, his hands drifting under your shirt, cupping both sides of your heavy pregnant belly. You don’t really have much reason to fight him off. You’re enjoying it too much. 

His hips press up against you and you moan, your head falling back as his lips explore further, chasing every inch of naked skin–

“Ahem.”

You pull away in a hurry, pushing Vislos off of you. He doesn’t even seem to care that you've been caught.

“Eze, my dear brother. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

The smirk on Eze’s face is embarrassing enough. 

“I just came to give my congratulations on the third child. And to let you know I’ll be heading back down the mountain soon.”

Vislos nods, stepping off the porch steps. 

“Be careful. Let us know you’re safe,” Vislos says, pulling Eze in for a big hug. Eze hugs him back just as tight, his forearm muscles bulging slightly under his rolled up flannel sleeves. 

“You know I will. Send me pictures of the newest little one when they arrive,” he says, this time addressing you.

You nod, smiling up at him. “Of course we will. Emma Grace is going to be so upset you’re leaving. Let me go grab her so she can say bye.”

You find her playing with her small wood-carved animals, a beautiful gift from Mr. Prathy for her 4th birthday. She takes off out the door when you tell her Eze is leaving and Eze lifts her up into his arms, spinning her around in the air. 

It’s a beautiful sight, and you still think it’s a pity Eze doesn’t want any children of his own. He’d be a great father. But, alas, it’s his choice and you would never force that on him. Heaven knows you have enough children to spare. 

“Ok baby girl, Uncle Ay-Yay has to go. We can call him later when he gets to his place.”

Emma Grace pouts but she doesn’t fight it when Vislos pulls her out of Eze’s arms and into his own. Her nickname for Eze still cracks you up, but it doesn’t look like it’ll change anytime soon. Not that Eze seems to mind. 

“I’ll call you when I get there, okay? Love you, E.G.!” 

Emma Grace responds with her own subdued response, and then Eze waves one last time. 

“I’ll be back. Love you guys. Stay safe.”

Vislos comes to join you on the porch, Emma Grace sniffling in his arms, and all three of you watch Eze’s car pull away and head back down the mountain. It’s always bittersweet seeing him leave, but you know it has to be this way. It’s not like he has options here for laying. 

“Come on, baby girl. Let’s go start getting dinner ready. You want to help me?”

That gets her excited again, and soon she’s forgotten all about her Uncle Ay-Yay leaving. 

That night, you lay in bed, unable to sleep. Vislos snores softly behind you, his arm tucked around you as always. It’s annoying how easily he falls asleep, especially after laying a batch of eggs, but you can’t really fault him for your racing mind. 

Eze leaves every other month to find someone to lay his eggs with. But unlike Vislos, he has no desire to settle down and find someone permanent. From what Vislos has told you, there’s a surprising number of kink communities that happily accept Eze. And while Vislos refuses to go into detail about it all, you can’t help but find yourself curious. Do these people have to sign an NDA? Or maybe he tells them it’s a toy? Or something else? 

Every single time he leaves, you find yourself wondering about it, and when you ask Vislos, he just says he doesn’t want to talk about his brother’s sex life. Which, that’s fair you guess. Vislos knows Eze is safe, and that’s what matters to him. 

You couldn’t imagine yourself being ok with that though. You’re thankful every day that Vislos wanted to settle down, that he wanted to have kids with you and make a life, despite the hardships you’ll both likely face.

Though you don’t want to admit it, having a big family sounds really nice. Especially since you were an only child growing up. 

He shifts behind you, a tired hum coming from him as he kisses over your shoulder, pulling your hair out of the way.

“You okay?”

You nod, looking up at him over your shoulder. “Just thinking.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

You shake your head, smiling. “Nothing you haven’t heard before. Though, I was also thinking about the number of kids we should settle on.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, raising a brow.

“And? What did you decide?”

“I decided,” you say softly, turning over so you can look at him fully, propping your head up on your hand. “That we should just see what happens. No plan, no set number. Just…go with the flow, and we can stop when we’re ready to stop.”

He nods, his thumb running small circles over the side of your swollen middle. 

“I’m good with that. Who knows, maybe 3 is our favorite number.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. You know without a doubt that he will want at least one more after this one. He’s just insatiable like that. 

“If it was up to you, we would never stop.”

He chuckles, pushing you onto your back, hovering over you.

“What can I say, I find my wife very appealing.”

He keeps you from responding by kissing you, tucking his thigh between your legs. Pleasure shoots through you at such an alarming rate you nearly cum just from that little touch. 

“One more time?” you beg. “Before Levi wakes up again, and I have to feed him. Please?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he answers with a grin, settling between your legs, his cock already pressing up against you through his pajama pants. 

“Insatiable. I swear.”

“Only for you my love.”

You huff, but you can’t deny you crave him, nearly every day. He just does it for you, and you hope that never ends. 

As he makes love to you, making you feel every ounce of pleasure you can, you think maybe…just maybe, you can have that family of 10 with him one day. 

THE END

She rested against the counter, the dried fibers of a half eaten date between her fingers, and providing a perch for her body was the round of a greatly pregnant belly that poked through the window of her cart. I couldn’t imagine the inside of the cart to be incredibly spacious, I wondered how it was possible for such a woman to be inside of the cart

I hadn't realized how close I had gotten to her while observing her products, and right before me was her chest. Her gigantic breasts sat against either side of her belly, casually covered by loose purple fabric that drew their full teardrop shape closely.

“Um… Ah… Melons.” I spit out. A cringe crept around the corner of my lips.

The woman chuckled, amused watching the movements of my face. “Melons? I have a few” She replied without any ounce of offense taken. She set her date down, and held her belly in place as she huffed, pulling a variety in a wooden bin from behind her. Her eyes dropped as she found a crate of fruit behind her, 

“The rain's have been plentiful. These may be overripe…” Her fingers drew closer across the wooden counter towards the reptile-like skin of the cantaloupe between us. Even as she brought them out I could smell the fruit from within. They shined among every other product on display. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem. What’s wrong with overripe melons?”

“These plants bore their fruit too soon. Pollinators are scared away by the burgeoning melons that grow on the vine, hiding away the other flowers on the plant.” Her eyes drifted from the fruit. A hand subconsciously drew across the stretched fabric of her dress. She grounded herself to the touch against her unborn child.

“They grew much further than the capacity of their skin. The flesh is taut, the flesh may be juicy, but at a cost of the fruit's body. It's more than that poor skin can contain. How much  more could that fruit take… Nobody can tell for sure…”

The merchant shrugged, the gaze from her sharp eyes narrowed onto me, watching with intention. Her fingers seemed to barely hover over the loose clothes covering her heavily distended midsection. Her tone hid feelings of longing melancholy, one that felt especially unusual for an expecting mother.  Whatever her background was I knew she wasn't just talking about fruit. 

A flick of her fingernail sent a crevice snapping throughout the entire rind of the melon, loud enough to make me flinch. 

“Pop.” She cooed playfully. The flesh parted on the inside was engorged freshness, juices dripping onto the table in front of us. She gestured towards the exposed section of fruit before me. “Have a taste.”

My emaciated body could not hold back any longer. The crisp flesh yielded under the most bare pressure of my tongue. I was slurping the fruit down voraciously. The flesh was sweet and nourishing. The cart owner looked down at me with curiosity and stroked her stomach gently, watching with enough intent to make me self conscious. 

“Please forgive me. I’ve never had anything like this before.” A smile turned to soft laughter as the merchant watched me, amused. I'd never thought twice about the concept of pregnancy, it had felt so far from my life. Her fertility was right in front of me on full display. The way her clothing hugged her growing body, how she had to maneuver around her large bump only intrigued me more. While I was surrounded by the bounties of nature, the shop owner carried her own. 

“I’m glad you’re satisfied.” She nodded. 

“How much for the melon?” I asked, attempting to hide these overwhelming emotions behind my coin shack. She waved her hand. “Take as much as you’d like. I’m not sure if I’ll find somebody with your perspective.” The space between our words was palpable. I felt regret, witnessing such an ephemeral beauty pass me by in real time.

“Thank you, miss. I hope I can repay you soon. May I know your name?” 

“Isme.” she extended a hand. It was natural for a merchant and a customer to exchange a handshake. But as mine were embraced by her especially large hands there was a line that was crossed. Our hands lingered a second longer, interrupted by another shopper that lined up behind me. 

“Might we be reacquainted soon.” She pointed towards the field on the outskirts of town in their magnificent display of the entire spectrum of colors. The sun started to go down as I brought my arm full of fruit to the inn. The air was looking to be much warmer than anticipated with a subtle scent of flowers beginning to waft through the air. 

~

Night fell as I rested in front of the long day ahead of me. My stomach is as full as it could be. I rolled in my bed with the thoughts of Isme clouding my mind. The scent of cherry blossoms began to waft into my room even stronger now. I had a moment of peace before the commotion came in. The lobby filled up immediately, not one person had come in alone and their partners for the night were draped over each other’s arms. 

On the first floor the scent of sweet pollen hit me like a tsunami, the experience dazed me to lose my footing under me as the embers of desire began to ignite within me. My heart began to race, I felt needy for attention, the touch of another human being. But none of the people who had filled into the lobby could satiate the craving I had developed in the day.

The sound of pollinators buzzing through the skyline with their gentle symbiosis. Not a fig wasp nor moth moved with any aggression. The smell of nectar wafted intensely into the air. Lines wrapped around the pubs and brothels alike. The silhouette of opened windows behind curtains echoed passionate sounds of pleasure where couples were clearly making love. Strangers would seemingly pass each other in the street and disappear into the inns and alleyways only to emerge from them minutes later. 

The scent of nectar was overwhelming now. Into my sinuses and directly into my brain that felt like it was melting. My heart began to race. It was as if my peripherals were highlighted in a pink hue. There was something in the air, literally and metaphorically. In the sweet miasma there was a lust catalyzing hysteria, and I was also a victim.

“Haa… Haa…” my lust was verbal now. It was even hard to control my motor function. Even the rubbing from my underwear was overwhelming. My erection was twitching in my pants. From our short interaction she was the only thing on my mind. Nobody had ever left an impression on me as she did. I retraced my steps into the dark inn where people were attached to their lovers along the walls. The sounds of pleasure echoed further into the alleyway as I pursued the location of the fruit cart. 

The cart was gone, and in my lust driven daze I felt deep regret as I saw the fruit cart gone from its morning location. I had missed my opportunity, and I may never see a woman like Isme again. How long would it be before I devolved into a horny monkey.

“You made it, traveler.” 

The sight before me filled me with a primal sense of purpose. She dawned the same color violet fabrics, though far less draped over her bronze skin. Two pieces of clothing were held together by a  couple of thin gold bands supported by her dramatically distended stomach at the center of her torso that were at my eye level.  Her stomach distended far past her hips than my arms could ever wrap around. My head only reached the bottom of her ribs. I noted the strength of her backside to carry such a weight in preparation to birth her child. As she came to a stop her exposed skin rippled. Though heavy with a child in her womb she was still a flower in full bloom

The apt description of her ripe melons were hers alone now. The exposed skin let me marvel at the miracle of her life giving body. “Isme…” I uttered in relief, my cheeks lit aflame for her to see me in such a state, but as we got closer I realized we were under the same condition.

Her chest rose and fell, also under the spell of the night breeze. Under her translucent veil I could see the redness on her dark cheeks. One knee pointed inwards “You must be feeling it as well. You were just in time for the mass pollinator migration.” She took my hands into hers, picking up exactly where we had left off in the afternoon. 

“I… apologize for being so… Mmh… forward…” I looked her in the eyes. The desire against either of our touches answered it so clearly that the verbal agreement was only a formality. “May… May we have sex?” 

With the same haze in my eyes, Isme nodded with enthusiasm. She guided my to the hidden corner of the alleyway where her cart rested and her stalls of fruit were hidden, a little closet of space where the moonlight shined into the room.

Hinges unlocked and the bottom of the cart flew open. An entire wall had to come down in order to fit the pregnant woman who followed behind me. Her arms rested on my shoulders, guiding me to a bed that made up the majority of the cart's space. Her cart was illuminated by the moonlight. Her sheets were fuchsia under the azure moonlight. 

I felt the warmth of her breasts and belly, our bodies pressed together, as we craved touch immediately. She turned me around and set me gently against her bed to see her from underneath and recognize the scale of our size difference. 

“Was it melons that caught your eye earlier?”

She unclasped the top of her bra, freeing her heavy breasts that dropped heavily with their engorged fullness. Her amber droplets rolled readily against her dark breasts leaving behind a wet trail to her nipples. “Don’t be shy. There will be more than enough for my child. Drink.” My body desperately gave into her instruction. Her heavy breasts required physical labor from both hands to guide her into my mouth. Every touch caused her nipple to leak, down my chin beofre her heavy supple flesh filled my mouth.

Her body rocked back and fourth as she sucked air sharply to the sensations of lactation. Her milk filled my mouth with every suckle, nourishing me as she did before as I was indulged in a way only a mother can indulge me.. I was on fire. Her hands stripped me until my bare skin exposed itself to the night breeze before she explored my body. Her fingers slowly familiarized her with the shape and size of my body, it was as if she was evaluating how much I could take. Whatever she assumed, I wished that she would give it to me twofold. Last of which to be touched was my erection that had been growing against her body. 

“Keep suckling. Let me feed you.” Her large hand enveloped most of my shaft. The bottom of her thumb rolled against my most sensitive spot at the bottom of the head. She began to stroke. Firm pumps gave the stimulation that my body crazed under the humid haze of aphrodisiacal pollen in the air.

My moans were muffled into her breast as she bit her lip to my sounds. Her touch directed the fire igniting all over my body. Nursing on her leaking teat became second nature. My airways were surrounded by her breasts, her scent, and the taste of her milk. My brain was overwhelmed by Isme. My hands began to explore, finding any foothold to reach Isme closer as she continued to work me agonizingly slowly. 

My hands sunk into her flesh. The new grooves of a pregnant woman's body. The sensations of her body against my fingertips. The softness of her sides, her wide hip bones, and finally, the firmness of her belly parked up against my side as she leaned forward to nurse me. She pressed her midsection into me, allowing myself to enjoy the part of Isme’s body that truly caught my eye.

A pound, almost like a muffled thump. I would have thought to look at the entrance if it hadn't been for Isme's reaction.I looked down to find her belly contorted to sharm angles as limbs poked through her drum tight skin. My eyes could deceive me into seeing the details of a toe through The surface of her skin. 

“Your nursing is making me have contractions.”

Her white stretch marks decorated her body like those on the burgeoning melons from before. They only looked more stunning while highlighted by the yellowish metal that draped over her maternal frame. She huffed. Her sheer size was too much to handle. Anxiety grew on her face, like she was watching a fleeting moment pass by. She took her hand off of my cock, leaving me to sigh in sexual frustration. She wore no bottom to cover her sex. 

“Will you have me, traveler?”. She arranged every massive pillow on her bed to support her body. Her heavy, milk laden breasts were parted by the massive dome of her midsection, the undercarriage spread twice the width of my shoulders. She spread each of her tree trunk thighs to invite me into her. I was drawn to her belly as proof of her stunning fertility.

Her pussy was glistening in ways that I never thought imaginable. The entrance of the especially large woman was proportional. I couldn’t forget her tangent from earlier in the day. She was every bit the ripe fruit that she spoke about, and under the spell of the night  I felt like if we didn’t have sex, I would die. 

My whole body needed to accommodate her to take form to the love we’d make. As my hips pushed into the plush padding of her crotch my body parked against her firm midsection. There was a baby in here, one that had been growing inside of Isme for 10 long months.

I had to lift her heavy malleable belly to access her sex. I felt the weight of her child shift as she was relieved from the heaviness of her womb. She sighed, satisfied and exposed while my hands carried no less than half my body’s worth of weight. 

With her child in hand, I finally thrusted. “Mnnnhhhhgggg.” came from my throat as her warm sex enveloped my body, sending a chill down my spine. Her insides were warm, nearly hot and full as they pushed against me in every direction with softness to give. Every angle of every thrust parted her walls in new exciting ways that made her moan and shutter in excitement. There was so much woman to make love to, and I only had one night to do it.

Her walls began to collapse around me. She gasped as she was forced to address the cramping that took hold of her abdomen. A contraction took hold around me and her uterus that went solid under my hands. Wetter, together, I felt every ridge around me as Isme's body tightened to ready herself to begin labor. She winced in pain as her fingers began to dig into the mountain of pillows behind her

Her pussy, pulsing and contracting. Her breaths steadied as I moved. Isme's stomach began to tighten, receding inside my arms. Her firm belly hardened around the shape of her uterus and refused to yield.

“Hooooooo…” left her lips. Her chin pointed towards the sky as she took in a deep breath and let a long exhale groan from her relaxed jaw. She stroked her stomach, quelling the movements that bobbed against her stomach between us.

“Please keep moving…” She begged to keep taking her as the contraction. Her walls pulsed and contracted with every thrust. I felt like I was interrupting her body as it labored, but I was privileged to feel Isme’s most intimate process. Every thrust was a fight as her body clung onto me as I pulled out, but hungrily took me back into her. Our moans blended together,  releasing the feeling of her contractions against our sex.

Isme’s hands held my body, stroking my back and hips with idle lust as the powerful contraction came to an end. The area  around her popped naval was red under the tension and the rest of her body grew hot. There was an intoxicated look in her eyes before she lifted her hips from between her legs.

Effortlessly she dragged into the pile of body size pillows. While she rotated her cumbersome body around me, her gold chains jingled against her stomach and before I knew it one of her soft, heavy thighs straddled my hips and swallowed me into the soft ocean of her warm body. 

The weight of her round dominated my torso and pushed my breath out of me. “Mnnha-” I sighed, a breath was forced out of me as the weight of her hips and her belly sat against my torso. In an unprecedented erotic peril I realized that the pregnant merchant was going to use me.

“Forgive me traveler. We don't have much time.” She slurred as she maneuvered my cock against her entrance. I gasped, feeling the size of her entrance that was going to swallow my throbbing member whole. Isme’s soft, wet sex was intimidating to the sheer size of the pregnant woman on top of me. I flinched at the feeling of her wet juices subconsciously dripping from her wet hole like nectar from a flower begging to be fertilized. Her lust only made the developed young she carried in her uterus only more alluring. “I understand. Your body as it is… Haa… Is the greatest privilege.” 

She took a deep sigh with a softened gaze to my comment. With the overwhelming anticipation of sex Isme plunged into me. “Mnnnnhhhh!” was forced out of my crushed lungs as my body sunk into the pile of pillows as I was swallowed into  her gravid body. She groaned with heavy satisfaction as her body buckled forward. Her baby thrashed against me. The pressure of her womb was tangible as I felt the healthy life inside of her body.

It wasn’t enough for either of us. She maneuvered her large body over me, and slammed down all of her weight against my disproportionate member again. The sounds of our bodies filled the room as we collided onto her massive mattress. The bedframe groaned under the power of her pregnant body.

She couldn't hold all of her weight, causing all of the weight of her baby laden belly directly onto my shaft. My hips were crushed by each one of her heavy pumps. Her back arched as she threw her weight into me for her pleasure. Her body rippled with the effort, her breasts leaked a trail of milk that rained over my face and stained her bump.   I could feel my body bruising and I didn't care. No price was  too great for a lover her size

I could feel the pressure building in her hips as she rode. One hand sat atop her belly, steding her and digging into my body more and more. She held my hands against her mattress as we indulged. Her stomach began to tighten from over me this time. Her stomach receded back into her body

“Annnhhh~” I groaned, feeling the weight of her womb as it descended into her birth canal. With the mother in control she continued to ride through her labor pains. Her folds contorted around my cock, her gel-like juices stained my cock and ensured I could glide against her contracting vagina.

“Hnnggh!” She cried sharply as I felt a hard, muscular lip at the tip of my penis. With a quick inhale she moved again. “I-mmnnh-can-haaaa… Feel you against the baby.” she moaned through clenched teeth  We climbed, further and further amidst her pains.

Her hips dominated me, her ass crashed into my pelvis with recoil sending vibrations to her dilating uterus. “Oh fuck…” I groaned. “Your baby is so low…” My comment drew a smile on her face. Her hands lifted and supported her belly at the height of the contraction. From below her I took control, thrusting into her heavy body as best I could as her face contorted in the characteristic features of sexual pleasure. “Nhha~ Yes-Yes!” she cried as her whole body tightened.

She felt every one of my thrusts sending vibrations to her womb as I hit her harder and faster. I prodded her dilated cervix until finally her hips gave in and sunk into my body. My cock jabbed into a thin, rubbery layer before releasing my seed into her exposed uterus. My ejaculation released a pent up sensation from within her that had been building for 10 long months. 

“GUUUUUOOOOOOOAAAAH!” Isme cried. Her hips spasmed as she grinded over me. Her pussy twitched wildly to accept every drop of semen her pussy demanded from me. Her fingers ran through her scalp as she gyrated her nude body over mine. We panted, our sensitive sexes riding the sensations. My hands drew across her engorged womb between us, worshipping her virile round  under its weight. As my palms contacted the surface of her red, taut skin the thin layer separating my penis from her baby ruptured.

Isme took a sharp gasp as the protective layer within her audibly popped from within her. Immediately a bathtub of warm waters erupted onto my waist, leaving myself and a majority of the pillows under me drenched. We took heavy breaths in disbelief against her stained sheets. 

“Your… Waters…” I said, half in observation, half in question. Isme nodded with a look of shock and disbelief on her face. 

“You… You popped me, traveler. It looks like you picked another overripe specimen” She joked. Her smile disappeared quickly with a wince of her labor pains. “A-ahhh~” she cried, the pains forcing her to keel over my body.She held onto my body, vulnerable and afraid on top of me as intense labor pains reduced her to tense, shaky breaths. 

“Stay with me, traveler?” she asked, as if leaving my lover of the night to labor alone was an option. “Of course.” I reassured her. I assisted her as best I could onto her side where she rubbed the bottom of her stomach in the new, overwhelming pain. 

“Mmmnhhhh-” she groaned, pressing our foreheads into each other once more. “Ah~ Ah~” her knee swayed side to side as the effort of childbirth and adrenaline coursed through her veins. I wanted to relieve her

I pressed my forehead against hers. Slightly, she let go of some tension she carried in her face. She took deeper breaths and allowed the contraction to do the work of sending her child downwards. We both watched as her belly changed shape at the end of the contraction. The gravity of the moment was palpable. Isme was giving birth and I was watching her. 

Between contractions we heard the moans and sounds of sex around us. Sweet pollen still lingered in the air. Our warm bodies still craved more.Her sounds blended in with the sounds of the lovers around us, filling in the air with erotic sensual background noise. The atmosphere was not lost on us

Our lips met and we began to touch. Through kisses her jaw released the tension she held. She opened her mouth, her tongue explored the inside of my mouth, leaving us longing for more. “Can you feel my baby, traveler?” She requested.

“From inside?” I asked.  She nodded. My hand followed her hot, red midsection down to between her legs. My fingers led a journey across her gigantic body before I found her outside lips from under her belly. Isme let out a sigh at the contact. She spread her legs further, making it easier to find her labia, and deeper, her entrance. 

“Mnnnhhhh~” She moaned as my fingers parted her delicate folds and pushed into her. Her chest rose as she softly thrusted against my fingers. My fingers grazed a warm, round mass. “Haaaa-nnnghhh!” Isme groaned suddenly. Her thighs began to shake as the walls of her vagina began to close around my fingers. I watched her stomach crunch itself again. From within her I moved my fingers 

The lip of her cervix hugged the head as it descended. I held my breath, watching the large, round head of her child separate the lips I had passionately thrusted into just minutes before. As she let go of her push the head receded back into her slightly. Tired, childbirth was every ounce the endeavor I understood it to be. My fingers slowly exited her body with the effort of her pushes. “You’re making such good progress.” 

Through deep breaths she smiled and nodded, her face lighting up with pride. Isme demanded more kisses by leaning her face closer to which I obliged. Between her contractions she pressed her forehead to mine and we kissed under the illumination of the moonlight. Sweat stained my forehead as she whimpered into my body. Her tender noises of sex, she ended her contraction with a smile.

Her face tightened in the middle of our kiss. “A-annghhh!!!” She groaned against my lips. She sucked air in sharply and bore down with power, My fingers were forced out of her as the head occupied her entrance and spread her labia open. “Mnnnghhhh!” Isme moaned before she moved with the contraction again. The head spread her open, the round shape stayed as she pushed but as soon as she let go the head receded back into her slightly. 

“Oh goodness, it burns.” She groaned. “That must be what the head feels like.” I communicated. The update seemed to stun Isme who looked at me with a glint in her eyes.

“Would you like to feel?” I offered. She nodded and I slowly guided her hand across her large body. Isme gasped, her hand patted the little head between her legs with relief. We felt the delicate little orb that was slowly being born through Isme’s grueling effort. Her crotch was still sensitive as we felt her body accommodating her baby’s head. Slowly, I drew circles around her stretched skin.

“Touch me, I’m having another contraction-ohhhhhhh.” There was a head engaged between her legs. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as I drew my fingers in a circle around the head. 

“Unnnnghhhhhh!” Her pushes came directly from her base. Every graze against her sensitive clit got Isme to take a deep breath and relax to feel all of the sensations of the crowning head, the pleasure and the pain. “Nnnnghhhh!” Through the steady stimulation her breasts began to leak again. The droplets were whiter now. Her body must have known that her baby was almost here. The head stretched her vulva even more. I could feel the head underneath my fingers as it passed through their mother’s opening. 

Between isme’s legs was the size of a cantaloupe. Her clit poked above that head. With one finger placed upon her sensitive nub I massaged her outer lips as they stretched around the orb. Her eyelids fluttered  as she moaned, exposing more of the child's head. “You're making me so wet…” 

The crown was a beautiful sight, a provocative, indulgent sight that I needed to savor every moment of. Isme’s laboring pussy was every bit the flower that attracted her mate. She gasped as she saw that I was headed between her legs as she readied herself for the next intense feeling to claim her partially born head and her trembling clit teased me to pleasure her more. 

To indulge every one of my ambitions I buried my face between her gigantic legs. “Mnnnnhaaaa~” she gasped as her pitch raised. Her folds were saturated in juices, making my tongue slick against her most sensitive areas. 

The sensations made her tremble as her sharp moan elevated into a high pitch squeal. “I didn’t know a laboring mother, mnnhhfff, could feel so much pleasure!” Isme cried. Her hands found the back of my head and held me in place against her pussy as she labored.

“Ohhhhh… Fuuuuuuckkkk!” She chortled as she suffocated into the throws of cunnilingus and labor. “I’m going to cum, you’re going to make me cum while giving birth to my child.” Isme squealed as her toes curled against the sheets of her bed. 

“Push, Isme.” I instructed. “Deliver your baby.”

“Mnnhhh.” My attention towards her erogenous point lightened for her to build the energy for a decisive push. “Nhhhh-haaaaa-hooo-hooo-hooooo.” 

Isme's fingers dug into the sheets. Her calf began to rise over my head, its size blocked the moonlight above me. The leverage focussed more energy on the mother. The cavern created by her massive thighs tremble around me. She hummed, low and powerful, her voice peaked, growing as her body’s tremors climbed into an earthquake of pleasure. She held her thighs open for her child and my tongue. The weight of her belly sat directly on my forehead, and the mass was only going down 

“MnnnnnhhhaaAAAAA!!!!”

She lifted her hips and thrusted against my face. A shoulder popped free from her first violent jerk. “GUAAAAAAAOOOOOHHH!!” The second shoulder followed. 

But the heavy child still sat in her birth canal. The rest of the body needed their mother’s effort to be born. 

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! Her vocal chords rang until they grew hoarse as she exploded into a shrill scream that silenced the entire block as her orgasm shot the rest of her child's body onto the bed. Isme’s body spasmed as they returned to her laid down position. Her child was heavy as I took the slippery, squirming newborn into my arms and onto the mother’s chest for her to witness the first breaths of her child. 

With relief she embraced her young with her arms as I got to witness a new milestone of life, the very moment a woman became a mother. In a pool of her own fluids, covered in sweat, with her child still attached to her body, Isme was beautiful.

The first moment Isme could let her head rest against her pillow she did. She looked at me. “I never asked you for your name, traveler. I want to know the name of the man who gave me this pleasure.”

“Rayn…” I answered. She panted, cradling her newborn son in her arms. “What a wonderful name. Perhaps next season we will make a child that has that name.”

“You know how big you are turns me on…” my voice is breathy as you feel the hardness of my cock rub against your knee. “They’ll be here soon… let’s just enjoy being child free for as long as we can… hell it could be days… or even hours at this point in time.”

I lean forward stretching, my chest rubbing against your own chest, your nipples swelling at the contact as my lips meet yours and we kiss, our tongues meeting and swirling together.

“You’re gorgeous babe.” that was the voice of Stella, the third of our little polycule. She looked up from her position between the legs of Georgie, the final member of our little poly family, who was, let’s be honest, in no fit state to say anything, her moans had just echoed around the room as she came to the feel of a tongue across her folds, her chest heaving as she came down from whatever ecstasy she was experiencing at that very moment.

We had found out only last week that Georgie was expecting her first child and Stella certainly wanted to celebrate the best way she knew how.

“She’s right,” Georgie added, finally coming back to herself. She looked at your belly longingly and placed a hand over her own still flat stomach. “I can’t wait.” She reached a hand across the bed and cupped one of your milk-filled breasts. “And I really can’t wait for these,” she teased, thumbing your nipple and causing you to gasp, your whole body having been super sensitive for weeks now.

Lately, what with your being so close to going into labour, the three of us loved to gang up on you to make you forget all about the aches in your back, hips and feet. Almost as if we’d rehearsed it, Stella joined in by slipping her hand between your legs, and between our kissing, Georgie’s teasing, and Stella’s fingering, you were breathless for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the two babies compressing your lungs.

There was so much pleasure zinging through your body— your lips, your neck, your chest, your clit — it had you writhing, arching, simultaneously trying to lean into and pull away from the sheer magnitude of sensation. “Fuck me,” you moaned.

“Is that an exclamation or a request?” Georgie asked with a giggle, pinching your nipple a little harder.

“Mm, fuck. Both, I think.” You were already wet and Stella’s fingers, while talented, didn’t fill you up the same way as my cock. You kissed my jaw, my cheek, up to my ear. “Need you inside me.”

“As you wish.” I sat back on my heels and suddenly the attention shifted to me. I watched for a moment as the two ladies started with their ministrations, stroking me to make sure I was nice, hard and thick for you. “What position would feel most comfortable for you right now?”

It was hard for you to think clearly, but you knew at least you didn’t want to be on your back. “On top. Me. On you.”

You weren’t sure if you were even forming coherent words, but I grasped the idea. I rolled to the other side of the bed and, with both Georgie and Stella’s help, you got to a seated position and crawled over to straddle my thighs.

“I’d suck you off if I could reach you over this thing,” You said, hands tracing around the curve of your huge belly to wrap around my cock. You gave a few languid pulls and cupped my balls before I jerked and grabbed your wrists.

“I’m already well prepared for you, baby,” I explained. “C’mere. I know what you need.”

You shuffled forward on your knees until you were flush with my hips. My hands reached up, rested against the sides of your belly, travelled around to your generous behind, and settled on your hips, guiding you down onto me.

Once I was fully sheathed in your folds, Georgie tilted your chin in her direction and teased your mouth open with her tongue. Stella got behind you, poured some oil into her palms, and kneaded her knuckles into your lower back, up your spine, and into your shoulders.

Your head lolled forward and slumped in pure ecstasy. Georgie turned her focus to me while Stella worked at your overtaxed muscles, and you twisted your hips experimentally. The slow drag of my cock on your walls left you panting. But then you tilted and shifted just so as I happened to thrust up at exactly the same time, it hit a spot that caused stars to burst behind your eyes.

“Fuck. Yes. There. Right there.”

Encouraged by your breathless plea, my pace quickened. “There?”

You nodded, reaching back to weave your fingers through Stella’s hair. You craned your neck back and she kissed you deeply before moving down to nibble at your neck.

“I’m close. I’m close, but I—“ you didn’t know what, but you certainly seemed to be enjoying the moment.

My hand brushed the underside of your stomach as my thumb found your clit. My pace slowed but my thrusts became harder, deeper, resulting in your exaggerated curves bouncing with every one. Soon you were almost entirely still, the three of us doing all the work to make you whine, moan and clench.

My thumb pressed deeper, Stella’s tongue and teeth danced across your skin, and finally Georgie returned her focus to you, to the breasts she was so fond of, and you came undone.

You shouted as your whole body seized and then released itself in spasming waves of pleasure, but as those waves receded they were replaced by a different tension—longer and more painful.

Your hands flew to your stomach as you tried to catch your breath. The sudden stillness drew everyone’s attention back to you, and there must have been a strange look on your face because Georgie grabbed your hand, kissing your palm before interlocking fingers with you.

“What is it, love?” she asked.

“I- I think I just had a contraction.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. I’ll admit, I sounded concerned – we’d been preparing for this day now for the last 4 weeks after being warned that twins could come early, but here we go – 39 weeks, and it may be the sign that things were underway.

“I… think… so…” you sounded each word out as if you were unsure. “I mean, I’ve no point of reference, but it certainly felt different to all the Braxton Hicks contractions I’ve been having. Look, lets not get all worked up right now. I mean I think you’re supposed to track them over hours and hours… and you have something that needs to be drained.” You of course were referencing my rod-hard cock which was still sheathed deep into you. I of course, was well aware of the fact, but given the situation we were in right now, I wasn’t sure if you’d be having second thoughts.

Your hands crept up my body as you lifted your hips, holding your pelvic muscles tight as you did so. I swear the sound was almost like a pop as I slipped out of you, and the gasping groan that escaped my lips was all the sign you needed to know that had hit just the right level.

Stella and Georgie took their own role in this, taking my hands away from you, inserting two of my fingers on each hand into their own mouths. They mimed as if they were sucking my cock by swirling their tongue around my digits, but most importantly, it took away any sort of control I had over your movements. I was lost to the pleasure as I shuddered – you slipped back down my shaft as I felt the pressure building, knowing it was close to release.

“Let it go” you whispered, sensing my quivering body ready for release. “Cum for me…” you continued to whisper breathy little statements like that as you bounced, the sounds of the other two reduced to grunts and moans as they played with my fingers.

“I can’t, I can’t hold on.” I sounded almost pleading, as if I wanted to keep this moment going forever.

“Cum… daddy!” you moaned as your head fell back and your eyes closed, another surge taking you. You knew that if this was the real deal, you likely would be a few weeks before you would feel me inside you again, so you were determined to make me have the best orgasm you could.

Your hands pulled back on your belly, as if trying to ease the weight for a few moments, but I couldn’t hold on any longer. The groan escaped my lips as I felt my twitching cock expel its load. You lifted yourself off me, a sticky trail of my fluids dripping out of you as you shuffled back. Stella noticed the mess and turned toward you, her fingers dipping between your legs – to another gasp from you, as Georgie let go of my fingers and her head turned towards the glistening mess between my legs. I was half expecting her to try and take me in her mouth, but she ran her finger through the puddle we had left and brought it up to my chest, trailing her wet finger through my hair.

“Look at the mess you made, we’ll have to clean the sheets” she said wickedly.

“We might have more than a bit of cum to worry about getting the sheets dirty.” You interrupted, hand pressed hard into your side. “That was another one.”

Just to make sure it was the real deal and not just a very intense false labour, Georgie brought you a glass of water while I led you around the house for a bit. Despite the hydration and the movement, a combination that would usually stop the Braxton Hicks, the contractions still came regularly, and closer together than seemed normal for this early in the process.

After a couple hours, a light snack, and about a hundred trips up and down the hallway, we determined that this was likely happening, finally.

“Are we ready to be parents?” You huffed, the last contraction strong enough to leave you winded. I kissed you as Georgie wrapped her arms around you from behind and Stella wrapped herself around me. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Stella took to changing out the linens - both because we had made quite a mess of the sheets and so she could replace them with the special waterproof ones we had bought in anticipation of labour. We weren’t entirely sure that a home birth would be possible, as multiples tended to have more complications, but you’d had a healthy pregnancy and the midwife said we could give it a go as long as things seemed to be going smoothly.

This initial stage had you restless - not quite comfortable enough to allow you to rest, but not quite uncomfortable enough to feel like any real progress was being made. You walked and leaned and swayed as much as your body would allow, but eventually your back began to ache and the continuous movement started to hurt more than it helped.

“What can we do to make it better, love?” I asked.

Your skin was still coated in now dried salty liquids from our earlier escapades, and some hot water sounded heavenly. “Shower?” You suggested.

Our extra large shower could normally accommodate all four of us, but now that you had two extra people on board that hadn’t been logistically possible for quite some time now. We still managed to wedge three of us in there - Georgie in front, me in the back, and you and the twins sandwiched in between.

The warm water was a balm to your aching joints and you leaned back into me. I reached my arms around your waist and clasped me hands beneath your huge belly, supporting some of the weight and relieving it from your spine as I dipped my head down to kiss the crook of your neck.

Georgie lathered you up, take her time massaging her hands into your shoulders, your breasts, your hips, your thighs. As your face pinched with the start of a new contraction, she dipped her fingers into your folds and you gasped, pressing back into me. I was getting hard again, holding myself still in an attempt to quell the rising urge.

“It’s okay,” you said, craning your neck to kiss my lips. You tilted your hips back and ground your ass against my cock. “Want to take care of you too, daddy.”

My grip on your stomach tightened and I pressed myself even closer. I moved my hands to your breasts and slotted my dick between your ass cheeks as my hips began a steady rhythm, sliding up and down between them as my fingers teased your sensitive nipples. This intensified the contraction causing you to gasp, the pressure increasing from a dull indistinct ache into something sharper and more precise. Georgie stroked your clit and her fingers danced inside you as she leaned over your shoulder, pulling you into her bosom and in for a deep kiss.

In what could be a truly impressive display of acrobatics considering the situation, you managed to duck under Georgie’s arm and switch positions so that she could finish me off while you rode out the rest of the contraction. The soap, water and pain was making you feel a bit unsteady, so you got out of the shower – you figured it would make things easier for us two without you in there anyway.

Stella immediately wrapped you in a warmed towel and brought you over to the newly made bed. There were at least a dozen pillows, soft blankets essential oils being diffused in the air and romantic music playing - this was so much better than giving birth in a hospital.

“Rest while you can,” she instructed, helping you onto the mattress and shoving soft things into every uncomfortable crevice until it truly felt like you were floating.

Your back was elevated to about a 45 degree angle, your naked belly and breasts spilling out over your thighs. Your knees were up and bent, lazily opening out to the sides and putting your vagina on full display. It almost looked like the position women traditionally gave birth in, and when I emerged from the bathroom with Georgie in tow, you could tell the sight awakened something primal in me.

Your stomach squeezed, the pressure returning, and you made a show of opening your hips wider, pulling apart your folds to give me a good look at where our babies would soon be coming from.

“Pretty soon there’s going to be a head crowning right here,” you said, tracing your opening. “But it’s so small, and our babies are so big.” You laid your hand atop the peak of your swell for emphasis - it was an impressive distance. “Is this how I should do it?” You hooked your hands behind your knees and pulled them back so that your feet were off the bed. You looked at each of the three of us in turn. “How do you want to see me birth these babies?”

“As long as both you and the babies are healthy, then I’m not bothered…” there was an audible gasp in the room as both Stella and Georgie’s hands went to their mouths in shock.

My proclivity for birth was well known between the three of us, even before you were pregnant I had the three of you dress up with fake bellies and play out scenes from birth videos we had watched. They always made me hard and if truth be told it was probably a result of those videos that caused the babies to be conceived in the first place. Hence the passive attitude was completely unexpected.

“Who am I kidding…” I added with a smile, looking from eye to eye with each of the ladies in the room watching them realise I was leading them on. “I want to see you push, I want to see you stretch, and maybe… just maybe I want to see you howl as you do it. I want you nice and wide, moaning through your pushes, and I want my other ladies teasing you throughout. I want to cum on your belly as you push, maybe even feed you my cum so it dribbles out of your lips as your pussy lips drool their own juices. I want you to reach that pinnacle of pleasure and pain so you cum as the head pops out of you. And of course I want a good view of it at all times. I want these two beautiful ladies make you beg as they suckle on your breasts, getting you ready for feeding two hungry mouths in the aftermath. All in all I want the birth of my first children to be a memory all four of us will treasure.”

My speech had all three of you looking wide eyed and wanting, the four of us all ultimately wanting the same thing. It was your wince, as the next contraction picked up that broke the reverie of the moment.

As you lolled your head back, offering your hands for both myself and Stella to take one each so you could squeeze as the contraction built, you let out a chuckle.

“One hell of a voyeurs show coming up daddy…”

You laboured in this position for quite a while, being stroked, kissed, massaged and fingered until you’d come at least twice more. But then progress stalled and you were brought back to your feet for a bit.

The added pressure on your spine caused you to be more vocal during the contractions, but you figured I’d rather like that.

“Mmm. Ohh. Oh, they feel so low.” You bent forward to massage the bottom of your stomach. It had dropped considerably since labour had started, and while it gave your lungs a bit more breathing room, it increased the pressure between your hips even more. Your legs shuffled apart so you were standing in a wide V. “Like they might just—mmm—fall out of me any minute.”

I came up and dipped a finger inside of you - deeply. “Not so low after all,” I teased, adding in another finger. “You’re gonna have to work hard to get my big babies out of this tight little pussy.”

You shuddered in anticipation. It would feel so good to start pushing, but your body wasn’t ready for that yet. You bent over the dresser, resting your forehead on your crossed arms as all the mass of your belly pooled down and to the front. Your full breasts swayed side to side in time with your hips as you rode out the contraction with my fingers inside you and Stella’s hand pressed firmly against your sacrum.

“Gooood, mama,” Georgie praised, stroking your hair as you mimicked the measured breaths she took. “Breathe it away.”

You gave up leaning on the furniture and had to walk around. After a few more laps of the room, your legs got a little too shaky, your sweat dampened skin got a little too cool and your stomach got a little too nauseous, so you requested a stint in our massive tub.

It took a while to fill, but it was so worth it. The weightlessness instantly relieved the pressure on your back, knees and feet and the warmth loosened some of the tightness in your muscles. You didn’t want to lose the comforting touch I had been giving you all this time, so begged me to follow you into the tub – I was hardly one to argue at a request like that!

Still wanting to move things along, you stayed in a squatting position, with me supporting you from behind. I wrapped my arms under yours, hands resting on your breasts and stimulating your nipples during contractions, making them come hard and fast and in turn making you moan and whimper.

Georgie and Stella were kneeling on the side of the tub to help support. Georgie held your hand while Stella massaged your hard belly whilst you rode out wave after wave of contractions. Some combination of the water, the stimulation and the relaxation ramped up the intensity. You could no longer speak – were reduced to primal grunts and groans that transformed into meditative howls at Georgie’s prompting you to be loose. Your eyes drifted closed as you focused only on the physical sensations of your body. Your nipples, gently rolled between two fingers. Your stomach, sharp and tight and full. Your clit, circled and stroked and pressed thanks to Stella’s roaming hands. Your hips, aching from being held so open for so long. Your ass and thighs, making small figure eights in the water as you rolled your hips.

The sensations were constant now, both pleasure and pain, and you gave yourself over fully to feeling them. You writhed and panted, thrashed and growled and it got to a point where finally you decided the water did absolutely nothing to ease the mounting pressure. The next contraction came upon you so fiercely and suddenly that you screamed, lurching forward onto your knees and gripping the edge of the tub with one hand and your stomach with the other.

“Hnghh, fuck! Ow, shit, fuck!” you gasped, slamming your fist against the rim to emphasize your cursing. “Hahh, ahh, mmmmm.” You tried to relax back into the flow state you’d managed previously, but something was different now.

“What is it, love?” Stella asked, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

You whimpered, tried to stand, failed miserably. “Bed. Please,” you managed.

We worked in unison to pull you up out of the water. You cried out at the sudden weight of gravity adding to the already unbearable pressure, and after stepping out of the tub, I had to carry you the few feet across the room.

You laid in much the same position you had teased me with earlier, only this time the display was real. “Check me,” you begged, your legs falling open as your face scrunched up in pain. “I think- I think I need to push!”

“Are you sure?” Georgie asked, excitement mixing with worry. “Your water hasn’t even broken yet.”

“That’s why I wanted someone to fucking check me,” you groaned out, and Georgie looked like a kicked puppy. “Sorry, George, I - fuck, I just really need to start doing something with all this pressure building up inside, you know?”

She nodded, taking your hand and kissing your knuckles. You added “I just don’t want anything to go wrong. Plus… pregnancy hormones.”

We all had a tension relieving chuckle at that, which was interrupted with a hiss as I stuck your fingers inside and probed your cervix.

“Well?” You had the blanket in a death grip as I sought my determination. But I was too slow. Another contraction came right on the heels of the last one and you couldn’t help but push with it. “Fuck, I’m pushing, I’m pushing!” Stella grabbed your other hand as you threw your head back, knees pulling up and back as your heels dug in and your toes curled with the effort.

“Mmmnahhh!” At the crest of the contraction, something gave way. A dam broke, both literally and metaphorically, and the entire lower half of my arm was coated in amniotic fluid as the push broke your waters with my hand still inside you.

We all stared down between your legs for a moment, a bit shocked and definitely excited. Some of the pressure had been released, but that fluid was quickly being replaced with the very large and solid head of our first baby. Your back arched, pushing out your belly and breasts even further, at the sensation, as if your whole insides were being pulled down and out through my vagina by a very strong, very large string.

“Baby’s still pretty far up there, but you’re at ten.” I smiled at you, kissed your knee and looked back between my legs hungrily. “Time for Stage 2.”

You blew out your breath, you were unconsciously holding it in following the soaking that my hand had just gotten, and the thoughts of what was on the horizon - and more importantly, what you’d have to do to scale that proverbial mountain. You looked down. There was an expanding pool of murky water just visible past the extremities of your belly, prevented from soaking into the sheets by the waterproof top cover.

“Can you clean…” you were cut short as you noticed your belly tighten around the babies within it, the next contraction building rapidly and squeezing you forcefully. You closed your eyes and winced, squeezing the two ladies hands as you sought something to do to react to the sensations that were surging inside you. Your knees closed almost involuntarily, trapping my arm in place as I’d extracted my hand, but weren’t quick enough to move out of the way.

“These feelings are just too much… it hurts, it hurts, what do I do… what do I do.” You were in a bit of a panic, and the other three of us all joined in at once.

“Just breathe… let it come” came Stella, her free hand moving to your shoulder.

“Push when you need to, you’re doing great!” That was Georgie, her free hand moving towards your knee trying to separate them to release my arm.

“This… this is so beautiful… you’re so beautiful, you’re doing great.” That was me, who at that very moment was transfixed by the shape your belly had made.

It was absolute cacophony, four people making noise at once, though it was suddenly all overridden by your own roar as your knees flopped wide, you grabbed your inner thighs and pushed. The rest of us were awestruck. Finding my arm released once more I scrambled forward through the water puddle on the bed so I was directly in front of you, my hands on top of yours, interlocking with your fingers digging into your thighs so my head was visible over your belly, and we locked eyes.

“That’s it, Push!” I spoke in front of you. You could only nod as the contraction faded. “I need you all to help me!” The frustration was definitely still there in your tone.

-

This was new for all of us, so you tried to allow everyone some grace… but damnit, it hurt and nothing anyone said or did seemed to be helping. You pushed with everything you had with every contraction, but you may as well have been pushing up against a stone wall. When you yelled, more in frustration than pain, Georgie patted your arm in sympathy.

“You’ve just got to relax, mummy. The baby will come when it’s ready.”

Stella must have been able to sense your less than helpful retort sitting there on your lips, and interrupted with, “Why don’t we try something a little different then, yeah?” She sat on the bed behind you, leaning back against the headboard and moving the pillow tower out of the way, opened up her legs, and pulled you up so you were pressed directly against her chest.

I took the opportunity to soak up the birthing fluids with a towel and toss it into the bathroom before crawling back between your legs. “Alright?” I asked, tracing a line up and down your inner thigh. When you didn’t answer, I dipped into your folds and smiled. “It’s so close now, love. I can feel the head just inside.”

“Really?” you asked, hopeful. I nodded and you placed your hands around the curve of your stomach. “Just a little more, babies. Momma needs your help.”

Your belly contorted and clenched as a new contraction began and you reached your arms overhead to grip on the headboard over Stella’s shoulder as you gave myself over to another push.

“Hnghhhhahh! Ahh, fuck!” Your heels pressed into the mattress, bringing your hips up until I forced them back down into a stable position. “Fuck, stop, I need to- I need—“ you gasped as Georgie’s tongue stroked long and hard across my chest.

“You need to relax,” she repeated with a wicked smile. She trailed kisses across your collarbone, down your chest, and then took one of your breasts in her mouth, lapping and sucking at your nipple in such a way that a different kind of pressure began building inside of you. “You like that, huh momma?” she hummed against your skin.

“Oh. Ooooh, oh god. Mmmmnahhh!” Something finally gave way and the head surged forward, bulging out your lips and pressing insistently against my hole.

“That’s it, it’s right there!” I called from my post between your legs, shuffling closer. “You’ll be crowning in no time.”

You pulled Georgie’s face up to yours and kissed her while Stella took over massaging your breasts. You paused to push whenever there was a contraction, but in between there was always touching, kisses, love.

When your folds began to part in earnest, you howled, “Burns! It’s burning!” and the three of us redoubled our efforts. Every sensual part of you felt like it was being tended to simultaneously — your lips, your neck, your breasts, your ass, your thighs. You had the vague sense of me working to stroke your clit at the same time as I was stroking my cock and my words from earlier came back to you.

You reached between your legs and your hand found its way to my shaft. You brushed its hard length with your fingertips and then felt for the coin sized bit of pubic hair that was left sitting at your opening after we had recently styled you. “Come on me,” you said, moving your fingers to your clit, taking over pleasuring yourself in the downtime between contractions.

“What?” I asked, incredulous, as if I hadn’t been the one to suggest it in the first place.

“Mark me as yours. Paint me with your seed. Make me taste you, make me scream, make me come as I’m spread open unbearably wide.” You let out three quick huffs of air as your fingers moved with greater urgency. “And do it quickly-eee!” your last word morphed into a squeal and then a shout as the next contraction slammed into you.

Your hands moved, hooking under your knees and pulling them back as you locked eyes with me over the huge dome of your stomach, as once more, you pushed.

It was as if all my birthdays came at once… and I wasted no time in reaching down between my own legs and stroked my shaft, feeling the slickness meet my fingers at the tip.

I shuffled back and got up on my haunches as I slowed my breathing and let my fingers start to play. Back and forth my hand moved, squelching noises soon following the back and forth movement.

My eyes met with yours over your belly and though you were obviously in pain as the contraction built, your eyes also showed longing, and I knew then you wanted this rather than just saying it knowing it would please me.

Your chin dropped to your chest and you moaned out loud and low as you pulled your legs back further, Stella and Georgie maintaining the touch and massage they had started.

With Stella behind you, she focused entirely on you, her hands rubbing circles and tugging at your nipples, finally squeezing out a few drops of colostrum as you gasped and pushed. She let go with one hand and turned your head so her lips could meet hers in an embrace.

Yours moans met her voice purring into yours “you’re so sexy, stretch for me mamma, push that head out. “

The show was electric for me, and quite soon I was beginning to huff and puff myself, starting to lose control.

Georgie sensed the progression and stepped off the bed, leaving you as she walked in behind me, reached a hand under my ass and between my legs, brushed her fingers over my balls and took a long finger and stroked it down my shaft from as far as she could reach back to my ass. The added sensation caused me to flinch and a spurt of creamy white cum flowed out of me and dribbled down my hand into the bed.

I could do nothing else but groan, my own moaning noises meshing with yours, your focus now on Stella’s tongue playing with yours. Georgie got in close behind my ear and nibbled lightly whispering “that cum is the same stuff that’s going to make me swell as much as this gorgeous lady… 8 more months and we’ll be doing this all again.”

Her hand wrapped around my fingers and joined in with the back and forth movement as her eyes caught sight of between your legs.

It was clear that the baby was on the way. Your gasping pushes had bulged your opening to grotesque levels, your lips open in an oval and the view of the first tufts of the baby’s matted hair more than visible.

“Look at our baby, look at our baby” she was elated, and she kissed my neck.

That was what pushed me over the edge, that kiss. I knew I was close with the dribbling, but I couldn’t hold any longer. The stream of cum flew out into a gigantic arc and splattered into your tummy, soon followed by a second and third splatter until the force behind it had dissipated and all that was left was another dribble into our combined hands.

I stared at the fluid as it slid down your belly but Georgie wouldn’t let it travel too far, moving past me to rub it into the giant mound you held in front of you.

Her sticky hands slid down the side of your belly and rubbed the wet liquid into the hand you were gripping your inner thigh with.

“You feel that babe… your pushing has looked so sexy you’ve made him cum that much… and it’s all for you and the good work you’re doing with the baby… now… let’s see the head!”

You grunted again. Turning your head away from Stella you wined “it’s coming, I can feel it stretching… I’m burning, I’m burning!”

Georgie’s hand drifted inward, providing gentle counterpressure against the emerging head.

“What are you doing?” you practically screeched, trying to shuffle backward but blocked by Stella’s firm presence. “It needs to—fuck—come oooout!”

“It’s gonna come, baby,” Stella soothed, peppering kisses along the back of your neck and rubbing a hand up and down your belly when your lips turned down into a pout. “Just not too fast. Gotta keep mama safe too.”

“Plus this way it’ll last longer,” Georgie added wickedly, fingers tracing the modest crown in fascination.

In the space between contractions, you were grateful for the pause, the time to revel in the beauty and strength of this moment - your naked body, soft, round and full, growing and nurturing life and then labouring to bring it forth surrounded by all the people that created this family. You cupped your palm around the dome between your legs, wincing in anticipation of everything still behind the skin breaching the small hole at its peak.

“I believe you promised that crowning would come with an orgasm,” you sighed, leaning heavily against Stella.

“I believe you’re right.” I looked wicked, and though you missed it, you were certain that I had winked.

You were kind of joking - now that it was happening, you couldn’t imagine how that would be possible - but then you felt my hands replace yours. I moved them out, massaged your thighs and relaxed your knees open even further. I drifted a finger over the glazing work on your stomach. My finger then pressed into your clit, which was prominent and distended with the baby’s head pressing out beneath it.

“It’s- it’s coming. Another one’s coming,” you warned, licking your lips as your breathing picked up.

Stella slipped out from behind you and I slid my hands under your ass, pulling your hips forward so that you were lying flat on your back. Stella and Georgie each hooked an arm around the back of one of your knees and hiked them out and back, pinning your legs practically down to the bed.

“How am I supposed to push like this?” In response, each of the girls took one of your breasts in their mouth and began to suck. You gasped, instinctually reaching behind to grab hold of the headboard and arching further into the warm, wet heat of their mouths. The pressure mounted and you pushed, howling as the unbearable burn returned. As if they’d practiced, Stella and Georgie simultaneously took your nipples between their teeth and gave a little tug, lapping and swirling the area with their tongues – your hips would have bucked if they weren’t held in place.

This continued in a cycle, you giving little pushes only to be distracted by pleasure, then giving in to the pressure long enough to stretch a little more only to be overtaken once more.

A different kind of tension began building in your core, always just beginning to surface when it was drowned out by the pain of a contraction. Your hands let go of the headboard and darted between your legs, fluttering uselessly around the tight circle of flesh that was so close to giving way, but also seemed to retreat at the last second.

“Please, more. I need more. I need—“ you hissed in frustration as another contraction began.

“I know, love,” I said, as if I’d been waiting for you to beg. I’d been enjoying the show, and knew your body well enough to know what you needed even when you didn’t. I grabbed the little vibrating wand from the nightstand and waited until everything picked up - Stella’s and Georgie’s kisses, your grunting pushes, the pressure behind the bulging head - and then flicked it on. Your body jerked when the vibe pressed against your clit, causing you to scream in surprise.

“Keep pushing,” I urged, firmly holding one of your hips and the toy in place.

You started panting, writhing and gasping for breath and sanity against the conflicting powerful sensation zinging through my body. “Unghh, nghhhhah!” You managed to focus some energy on pressing back against the pressure bearing down in your hips.

“Good girl, more,” I instructed, other hand now moving to gently press against the skin surrounding the tight crown.

You took one deep breath and held it, bearing down with more force than any of your previous pushing attempts. You howled, your hole stretched almost to the point of breaking. Time seemingly stood still for you, but only a moment later the pleasure finally, finally peaked.

“Ffffuuuuuuck!” you yelled as your climax rolled through you, the waves of muscle contractions adding to the effort of your pushing and relaxing the tissues just enough to allow the huge head to finally slide through, another spray of fluids released behind it and spraying onto me and the bed.

“Guess we’re gonna need another towel,” Georgie said, looking at the mess and pressing a kiss into your temple. “Good job, mamma.”

You could only nod as you breathed deep, ragged breaths coming down from the sensations that coursed through your body, the feeling of fullness between your legs abated somewhat, but there was still fullness around the baby’s neck… and the ever present feeling of shoulders just behind the entrance.

It must have only taken a second or two before Stella had dug two fingers back between your legs leaving you to gasp at the intrusion.

“Sorry” came her apologetic announcement “but I need to check for a cord.” Her fingers circumnavigated the neck and you felt a slight tug as she pulled on the cord making sure it had plenty of movement. She suddenly let out a squeal of pleasure as the head turned and we all got a proper look at our first baby.

I know ‘they’ say parents will love a child unconditionally, and I’ll be honest, they’re probably right… but right now that baby was a squashed, bloody mess and needed a good wipe down but sure… I can see how it can happen.

“Someone support the head I need to push!” Your announcement was sudden and broke us all out of our reverie. Georgie had thrown another towel down under your ass and the baby to give somewhere to lay it down on after it was born so she was closest, barging me out the way to be involved. Your eyes scrunched up and we were back to pushing once more.

I stood by your lower quarter where you rested your leg against me, Stella scooting around to grab your other leg and together we urged you on to push. Together we operated as one, your downward force and the two of us opening your pelvis as Georgie’s fingers slid into your opening and pressed down on your skin, guided out the first shoulder, then soon after the second.

You gasped, announcing the relief was impossible to measure and soon after the slippery infant was lifted up from between your legs, you gave a yell of success and the messy bundle was placed to rest on your belly.

“Go mamma… it’s a boy!” she announced. In parallel, your body flooded with hormones and tears flooded your eyes. We knew you were expecting one of each, non identical twins in their own sacs… we found that out from the scans we’d been having - what we weren’t sure was which would be born first as the babies had been awkwardly placed when room ran out in your womb.

Tears continued to leak from your eyes and this little body jostled up and down on your chest in time with your own silent cries. Stella leaned back on the bed to pull you closer into her side as you buried your face against her for a moment, entirely overwhelmed.

Seems our firstborn child was a son… what we didn’t know was how soon he’d be joined by his sister.

“He’s so beautiful, babe,” Stella said, kissing the top of my head and rubbing a soothing hand up and down my arm. “So proud of you.”

You nodded, took a shuddering breath, and finally looked down at our son. He was waxy and red and scrunched and a bit cone shaped… and the most beautiful thing you’d ever laid eyes on. Georgie had come over with a towel and started to rub the baby down to get off most of the vernix and birth fluids.

I in turn pulled one of the soft baby blankets from the pile beside the bed and pulled it over the two of you as you both got to know each other. After a few minutes he seemed to settle, recognizing the scent of your skin and surrounded by warmth.

The flutters in your stomach reminded you that you were only halfway done, but the contractions were weak and sporadic and it seemed as though his sister was going to take her sweet time coming out. You twisted your hips and stretched as the ache began to settle in from being in this position for too long.

“Alright?” I asked, wondering at the discomfort evident on your face. “Contractions?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Well, yes, but nothing to be bothered about yet. I’m just—maybe help me sit up?”

Stella and myself sprang into action, propping you up and shoving pillows behind your back until you were semi-upright.

“Better?” I asked.

You nodded. “Much.” The shift in position jostled the baby and he got restless. After a moment, you realized his movements against your chest weren’t random — he was rooting. “Oh! Oh, you’re hungry.” You pulled him a little to the side, but he still wasn’t quite in the right position. “A little help?”

Stella shoved another pillow under your arm as I reached to nudge the baby’s head toward your nipple. When he still wasn’t latching, I scooped a hand under your breast, filling my hand with it and aiming it toward the baby’s mouth like a bottle.

“There it is,” I said as his mouth finally closed around your offered nipple.

“Oh that’s so strange!” You said, looking up at each of us in wonder. You giggled, cried a little, went back to smiling. Once he’d gotten the hang of it, he sucked like he was starving.

“Be sure to leave some for your sister,” Georgie chastised lightly, brushing her fingers over his thigh and up his side.

As if listening to her, he released you with a wet pop and a soft mewling sound. You put a hand behind his head and brought him up to your shoulder, gently rubbing and patting his back until he released a soft hiccup burp. Once he settled again, your own eyes began to drift closed and you realized just how bone tired you were.

“Why don’t you take a rest?” Georgie suggested, kissing one of your still-bent knees.

You released a whine of protest as Stella gave your arm a sympathetic squeeze. “We’ll take good care of him, I promise. You should try and sleep if you can.”

“It’s funny,” you said, handing the baby off to me, now shirtless in preparation for some skin-to-skin time with my son, “these early contractions seemed so unbearable before; now they’re just a minor inconvenience.”

As I snuggled in beside you - and Stella and Georgie beside me - you drifted off thinking maybe, just maybe, the second birth would be a little easier than the first.

Wishful thinking.

I listened contentedly to the sounds of the room - your sighing breaths as you seemed, somehow to drift off, and the mewling noises of the baby as he became accustomed to his new found freedom.

About 15 minutes had passed as Stella looked up and over at you. “Is she asleep? I mean… how. Isn’t she having contractions?”

Georgie piped up “yeah but she’s also pushed that big blob out… that’s got to take some effort” pointing towards me and the baby.

“Hey!” I retorted “our son is not a blob… he’s cute and chunky!” The three of us had a little giggle between ourselves as your eyes opened. I put my fingers to my lips, and announced “shhh” to the other two as you smiled, laid your head back and closed your eyes again.

The two ladies got up off the bed and picked the baby up off me as they walked over to the crib and wrapped the newborn up in a swaddle and laid him down. His own ordeal seemed to have worn him out as much as his mum as the baby’s eyes were closed and he nodded off as soon as he was laid down.

I decided to get up. Placed a kiss on your forehead as I pulled a blanket up to cover you. I announced I was going to jump in the shower and wash off some of the grime and muck that covered my hands and arms. Georgie decided to follow me as Stella announced she wasn’t going to take her eyes off the baby.

We got under the warm water and had only about 5 minutes of relaxing into each other’s touch when we heard your grunting. We nodded at each other, mutual understanding that things were starting to happen again as we shut off the water and started to towel down heading back toward the bedroom.

We got into the room to see you out of bed and bent over the crib, you and Stella staring at the contented baby inside. You turned as you saw me enter and grinned “time for take two I think.”

I walked to greet you in the apparent mid point of a contraction as you turned and leaned into me, your back and shoulders against my chest. You let out a groan as I captured your belly - noticing it seemed a lot looser - not really surprising considering - and held it. The feel of the contraction was evident. You rested against me, legs parted wide as your groan echoed around the room.

You suddenly held your breath and closed your eyes. “That’s it girl, big strong push, let’s get baby sister out okay” - the words of encouragement came from Stella who’s eyes had followed you as you moved around the room.

Another grunt, another push and your hands pressed into your thighs. You leaned forward and I felt your ass stick out to and press into my own belly. You shimmied - yes, shimmied, down my torso as I felt your ass slide down my body and rest in my crotch. My hands moved from your belly and grasped your hips as my fingers pressed into your lower back. “That’s it… right there” you groaned, the pleasure evident. “Stick them in me…”

Georgie could only giggle. She caught sight of my uncomfortable situation between my legs as she announced “I don’t think that’s what he’s thinking of sticking in you!”

A part of you was tempted to let this play out and feel what it would be like to have me inside you right now, like this. But the bigger part of you was so incredibly sore, tired and already aching with fullness once again. You reached between your legs but there was nothing to feel yet, not even a bulge to indicate our daughter was close to making her appearance. You pulled your hand away with a hiss as another contraction forced you into a pained hunch.

“Mmmm. Whooo. Oh, it’s already hurting,” You groaned as you pressed back into my hands, spreading your legs further apart as you let gravity and some gentle pushes bring the baby further down.

“I know, mama, but you’re almost done,” Stella soothed, giving the baby in the crib one last look before fully turning her attention back to you. She got to the side of you and cupped your quivering belly, letting you lean into her shoulder as I held your hips and spine. “Just keep pushing and she’ll be here before you know it.”

We stayed like this for several contractions, progress slow and steady, the only movement gentle rocking on the spot. At some point Georgie had placed a small mirror on the floor between your feet so that we could all watch each push with anticipation. At first there was nothing much to see - your already red, loosened hole fluttering open and closed around nothing; a few drips of stringy fluid reaching to the floor; the occasional pair of fingers peeling back your lips, probing the area, searching. All the while I suffered with you, the strain in my cock reaching painful levels in itself.

Then it finally happened, taking you by surprise once again. Pressure peaked, a hard push, and then a release of a huge gush of fluids. It drowned out the mirror, but you didn’t need it to know the baby had dropped dramatically into position. You gasped, nearly dropping into a deep squat if it weren’t for me and Stella holding you in place.

“Wanna—ngh—push on you,” you grunted as the burning returned — she was close.

“I think you already are,” I pointed out with a laugh, adjusting the position of my hips against yours.

You shook your head, but waited until the contraction had finished before elaborating. “Bed,” you commanded, pointing and nudging me in its direction, and I obeyed. I sat tentatively on the edge, but you chased me on your hands and knees until my back was against the headboard. Only then did you pause, your knees by my hips, and sit back on your haunches, on my lap, facing me.

You shimmied forward almost up onto my stomach until your opening was pressed up against my hard, erect length, your hands holding onto my shoulders for support as mine gripped your hips, pulling you even closer. Then, when another contraction started, you pushed.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, my fingers digging into your ass as your vagina bulged and pressed into my dick. “Fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too,” you joked with a breathless laugh, which turned into a moan as you bore down again.

“Yes. Push, baby, push,” I encouraged, trying and failing to keep my hips from pumping on instinct.

You didn’t have such control, and tilted your hips forward and back, rubbing your clit against my engorged length in a desperate attempt to balance the stinging pain with a tiny bit of pleasure. You squeezed your knees to keep yourself pressed up against me as you leaned back, surprised but relieved to find Georgie right there to help hold you up. You leaned against her chest and she reached under your arms, stroking down your belly to between your legs to take over stimulating you while Stella, who seemed to appear out of nowhere, toyed with your nipples and massaged your lips with her tongue until they parted for her. She swallowed my groan as you pushed, finally releasing the hold keeping your knees in place so that they could widen.

“Coming, it’s coming,” you panted, the warning morphing into a cry as the head bulged obscenely outward, pulling your lips tightly away from your body, like a little volcano about to erupt into a full crown. “Are you?” you asked, unable to see the state of me from this angle over your still round stomach.

I’d lost control… unable to respond. My body was shaking, massively over stimulated. In front of my eyes you were pushing once again, the two other ladies joining in to give you support and what could only be described as a sensual massage as I basically lay there a quivering mess. I tried to say something - anything - but all that came out was a groan of my own. I felt my crotch pulse… usually the surefire sign of cumming… but nothing came out. I was dry. Between the sheer amount of times I’d ejaculated today I was basically spent.

You’d started to feel the contractions more and more and by this point you were leaning forward, ass in the air, your face buried into my chest where I could feel the heat of your breath on me as you sucked in a breath, roared it out, and sucked in once more.

Stella held one hand whilst you had the other scrunched hard into the bedclothes and mattress whilst Georgie had moved around behind you and had started applying oil around the tight ring forming around the baby’s head.

That’s when we heard her panicked gasp. Stella was the first to realise and asked what was up.

Whilst there was a certain protrusion now between your legs which was no doubt the next baby… it was certainly not the baby’s head. The baby was coming out breech. And to make matters just that little bit worse, her legs were tucked up inside you making everything all the more complicated - and bigger - to push out.

“It’s burning already” you cried. “I thought I’d nearly had the head again… I’m… i’m…” you lost focus on what you were saying as you put all the force you could muster into pushing once more, the need overwhelming you.

“My back, my back!” I cried, letting off the push as the unusual position of the baby put pressure on the nerves there. Any progress I’d made was lost, and her bum disappeared back inside. At least it took the edge off the burning.

“What’s wrong, love?” Stella asked as you removed yourself from my lap and crawled to the other side of the bed. “I know we were hoping for another head-down birth, but it’s not like we didn’t prepare for this.”

“Pretty common, really,” Georgie added, giving your thigh a little pat as she tried to reassure us both.

“It’s not that, it’s — ah, fuck!” It was a little that, but mostly it was that the contractions now felt like daggers in your spine. Your arms gave out under you so that you were laying on your side facing me. You grabbed for my hand and squeezed, twisting and writhing in a futile attempt to find some sort of relief even as Georgie and Stella attempted to hold your legs apart. You never got more than a couple of half-hearted pushes in before you’d cry out and shift uncomfortably.

“You have to let her come,” Georgie soothed, a little shaken by your inability to focus.

“I can’t- I don’t know why it hurts so much more this time.” You brushed a hand across your slightly deflated belly before balling it into a fist and jamming it into the small of your back. “Help me,” you whimpered, too tired to help yourself.

“Let’s try a different position,” I suggested, rubbing my thumb across your knuckles in sympathy.

You nodded, but the next contraction was already starting. “Mm, hurry,” you warned as the three of us not currently pushing out a baby hurriedly flipped you over so that you were on all fours. Your arms were shaking, so no sooner had you got into position, you dropped to your elbows, burying your face into a pillow as your ass stuck up in the air. You felt someone’s hands – unmistakably female - on your thighs, traveling up to spread apart your folds.

“She’s right there,” Stella said. “I can still see her little bum sitting right inside you like this.”

“Want to try giving a little push for us?” I asked, close to your ear.

You gave a little grunt of acknowledgement, hunching up and bearing down as best you could. The burning instantly returned and you hissed, tensing your legs and clenching the pillow in a death grip.

Georgie tsk-ed. “Focus that energy, mama.” She cupped her hand over your bulging sex. “Right here now.”

You released a shaky breath, pulled in a fresh gulp of air, pressed back into her palm, and pushed.

“There you go, just like that,” she praised, tracing her fingers around my tight hole.

You rocked back and forth with each push, as if the added momentum would get her out faster. But over the course of several more contractions, you could never get her out past a modest crown.

“I think I need to stand,” you finally huffed after the last push had you seeing stars. It was hard to breathe in this position and your legs were starting to go numb.

Georgie wasted no time in dropping a towel on the floor while Stella and I helped you slide your legs to the ground. You planted your feet wide and pressed your hands into the mattress, belly and tits pulled low by gravity and half a newborn butt bulging out of your vagina. “I must look so hot right now,” you joked, once again leaning forward so that you were on your elbows.

“Honestly?” Georgie said, giving my pose a once over.

“Incredibly hot,” I finished for her, giving your ass a playful bite as I made my way to my knees between your legs.

Another contraction wound its way through your belly and around your back, and you gritted your teeth to keep from crying out.

“Push, mama,” I said, sensing your hesitation.

“Hooooo,” you breathed out with the push, bending at the knees as the pressure barreled down between your hips. “Hnghhhhahh!” You wailed as the stinging burn intensified. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you muttered over and over as the pain not only remained, but continued to get worse. “It’s burning, why is it still burning!”

“I’m sorry, love,” Stella rubbed your back as you sobbed at the end of a contraction. “When they’re head first, you get the crowning over with and you’re basically done. But with her hips coming first, you’re gonna feel that ring of fire with her whole body, yeah?”

You sniffled, nodded. “And… how much of her is out now?”

“About this much” it was Georgie, holder her fingers an inch or so apart, but she was stood out of your line of site so you couldn’t tell.

“Numbers… or get your ass over here and show me.” The incessant pain was starting to grind on you. You blew out a calming breath. Had to keep on keeping calm, letting it get to you was a sure fire way of making things worse.

Georgie went red with embarrassment, so focused on watching the action unfold that she forgot that you couldn’t likely bend round to see her.

“Sorry babe! Silly of me. You have about 3 inches poking out of you, and each push gets us a bit more. We can see baby’s thighs and she’s kind of folded in half so you’re pushing out belly and thighs right now. And oh god it looks so strange compared to the head. But you’re doing great… let’s just hope our little miss doesn’t have thunder thighs.”

I let out the snort of a laugh before I caught it, not wanting to dishearten you, but you certainly noticed.

“I’ll have you know…” you stopped for a grunt and pushed for a few moments interrupting your flow. You roared out and grasped hold of things, the effort you were putting in was massive at this point - no doubt exhausting as well. You were left panting as the contraction ended.

“Women in my family have very sexy, sleek thighs. If that’s the case, it’s from his DNA”

Your hand shook as you reached between your own legs, feeling the unfamiliar protrusion distorting the skin there. You tried to pull gently at the stretched outline, but whimpered and flinched as it became too much.

“Just let it stretch,” Georgie coached, taking back over the job of supporting the emerging butt.

You threw your hips back into a deeper squat with the next contraction, so much so that Georgie had to scramble back to get out of your way. A guttural moan escaped you as you curled around your belly, bearing down in equal parts instinct and desperation.

It was like all the air being forced to one side of a balloon animal, all that pressure building up behind and pressing out with nowhere to release. Every part of you ached, exhausted, in some kind of pain or another — or multiple kinds simultaneously.

“I have to- get her out!” you yelled, coming off a push that held everything you thought you had left. “Why isn’t she coming out?”

“You’ve just to get her past her hips. The rest will come easier after that,” Georgie explained cheerfully.

You frowned at her even though she couldn’t see you. “And the second baby was supposed to come easier after giving birth the first time,” you grumbled.

“My thighs,” I said, which threw you off enough to turn to look at me. I was smiling, somewhat sympathetically. “She’s definitely got my family’s thighs.” You let out something between a laugh and a sob and I pushed your hair back to kiss you on the temple. “You want to try a full squat?”

You had no idea if that would help — at this point, you’d hope for nothing but try anything — but Stella and I were already turning you around to face outward.

“Hey, beautiful,” Georgie said, giving you a little peck on the lips since she was finally able to see your face. “Have I told you how amazingly sexy you are like this?” she waggled her eyebrows.

“Let’s see how sexy you feel when it’s you here in a few months.” Her eyes widened, but more out of excitement than anything else. We’d see just how long that would last. “Ooh, another. Another!” you shouted, just as I settled in behind you on the bed to hold you up.

You pressed back against my chest between my legs and hooked your arms over my thighs to keep you upright as your ass dropped toward the floor. You squeezed and pressed forward, opening your knees out wide and tilting your hips up. Stella held up a large mirror so that we could see the progress as you pushed.

“Ooooh she’s so big, she’s not going to fit!” you cried, as each push only drew you wider.

“Yes, yes she is, look!” I said excitedly, pointing toward the mirror.

She was now out to the equivalent of her brother’s whole head, and the pain of crowning was still just as all-consuming as when it had begun. “Oh god, it hurts. Oh fuck, she’s got your torso too!” you wailed as you continued to push for what seemed like forever.

“Breathe! Breathe, mama, it’s okay,” Stella soothed as your desperation caused you to keep pushing even when there was no contraction. “She’s close. She’s so close.”

You looked in the mirror. Almost all of our daughter’s body had been born, but her legs were still folded, tucked up inside and keeping you stretched to the fullest.

“Next one,” I promised. “Next contraction you’ll have her out.”

You were devolving into whimpers, the constant burn-aching between your legs becoming too much to bear. “I’m going for it” you grunted… “this better be the last one, or I’m never letting you near me again!”

Neither one of us tried to correct you or make any sort of sarcastic quip.

As your eyes scrunched down and you started to moan loudly we actually saw the baby slide forward - Georgie’s hands supporting the majority of the baby until you let out a wail, soon followed by an exclamation of “finally!”

The baby’s legs had finally came out and boy they were long. Once the feet were born they sprung back into place flopping over Georgie’s wrists who had to adjust her hold because of the shift in balance but you had done it. Myself and Stella congratulated you, kissing and cuddling you, as Georgie shouted on, otherwise too preoccupied to give you any physical contact.

You were elated. You knew you had to still push out the head, but for now you could rest. Get your breath. Relax.

It was short lived though as your body decided it wanted the head out - now. The next contraction only gave you 30 seconds of respite before you wailed “no… too soon” and closed your eyes again, the next push upon you.

“It was supposed to be quick. This part was supposed to be quick!” you lamented when the next contraction didn’t bring the head out. You’d given two strong, solid pushes, but apparently either your strength was too small or her head was too big.

“It’s okay, you’ve got time,” Stella said from between your legs, having moved to help Georgie support both you and the baby from this awkward angle.

“Time. So much time. I’m tired,” you whined, draping dramatically in my arms and making me chuckle. “Can’t you just pull her out?” Your knees, hips, feet and… everything ached and you were only partially kidding.

“We’ll do everything we can, but you still gotta push, mama,” Georgie said.

You weren’t ready for the intense burning to return, but your body didn’t care — it wanted her OUT. The next contraction came swiftly and with a vengeance, squeezing and bearing down hard before you had a chance to catch your breath.

“Push, push!” we all encouraged you, chanting in unison.

And you did, if somewhat weakly. It was strange to feel so empty and yet so full at the same time. There was nothing left in your womb / stomach area besides organs and extra fluids, but your hips and vagina burned as they held tightly to the head of our daughter.

You could feel her trying to release. Stretching and receding, stretching and receding. Her little chin emerged and you gasped as the reverse crown pried you open wide once more.

“That’s it, now you’ve got her. Big pushes now,” Georgie said excitedly.

You shifted, pushing yourself on my thighs a tiny bit so that you could drop back down, adding gravity to the weight of your pushes.

“You’ve got the nose now,” Stella narrated as we watched the painstakingly slow emergence in the mirror.

Then he began the arduous process of getting out of his truck. It was undignified scooting until he got half of his ass off the seat, then he had to wedge a hand under his belly and hold it up while he turned, so that it didn’t drop off the seat and pull his back. Finally, gripping the door frame with his other hand, he stepped down, and released a winded oof as his body protested keeping itself upright while so overburdened. His back bowed, and even his chest bounced a little with the impact, the bit of breast tissue left over after his top surgery now swollen with milk.

Though sitting for so long left him sore and cramping, getting on his feet made him acutely feel every change of his impending fatherhood. He swore he could sense his hips settling even further apart in real time, the bottom-most twin an imminent weight deep in his pelvis, her tiny head generating a disproportionate amount of pressure on all his tender parts.

He spent a minute or so stretching, but there wasn’t much to be done when a body was this pregnant, so he pulled his tool kit from the back of his truck and began his waddle up to the house. Though, at this point, it was more of a trudge, the cuteness of his rocking posture diminished by how hard it was to get his work boots off the ground. By the time he reached the door, he was breathing heavy from just those few steps, a hand wedged to his aching back. He nudged the doorbell with the corner of his tool box.

A big guy answered the door, probably in his late 20s or early 30s, clean-cut, and didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary until they shook hands and his eyes fell to Dave’s huge belly below. He stared for a moment—everyone always did—before clearing his throat.

“Uh- yeah, uh, come on in— Mister?” His eyes flicked between Dave’s belly and his upper lip, where a thick, well-groomed mustache grew. “Uh, Mister…?”

“Dave,” he supplied, a little tired, but mostly used to this by now.

That was always the most awkward moment since he began to show: strangers grappling with the sight of a clearly pregnant man. After two decades of being stealth, it was a little difficult to know that anyone who looked at him would see his belly and know that he had a womb. And then—the men, especially—would have the next logical thought, and realize there must be a pussy between his legs. He could only guess how frequently even the most unassuming man would think of his cunt. Some of them, he was pretty sure that was all they thought about when they looked at him.

This one was nice, at least, and even tried to offer him a cushion to kneel on for his work. Dave graciously declined, showing off the padded mat he had added to his toolkit about six months ago. The client still looked uneasy, and tried to help him kneel down, then got him a glass of water he didn’t ask for, and finally asked outright if Dave was sure he was up to this.

Dave waved him off, saying aloud that he felt great, internally begging the client to leave before he had another contraction.

Finally the guy left him to it, saying that he needed to run an errand but he’d be back before Dave was done.

No sooner had the client left than Dave’s belly drew horribly tight. He gasped and clutched both it and the nearby counter, and made a strangled, bemused noise as he found his bump just as hard as the marble under his other hand. The pain grew and the pressure tightened until a whine began to build in his chest, ready to break through his teeth at any moment— then suddenly his muscles let up, leaving him gasping and a little dizzy, a chill washing through his limbs.

“Right, okay,” he mumbled, rubbing his bump. He needed to hurry this up. He took a deep breath and exhaled very deliberately, then began to kneel. The process was arduous, his knees threatening to give between the mass of his belly and the breadth of his hips.

Every inch he got closer to the ground, the deeper the weight in his pelvis settled, until it felt like the baby would fall right out of him. Or shoot out, if he sneezed. He knew from experience that it was much more likely that he might have a little accident, but he didn’t want to tempt fate with these contractions ramping up. So, he exhaled shakily and tried to keep his legs together. He just needed to do his job.

His job, as it turned out, was not nearly as simple as he expected. What he thought would be a single part change turned out to be an entire set of pipes that would need to be replaced, but the wood of the surrounding cabinets was so old that it would surely not survive that kind of work. The whole thing needed to be redone. That was a job for another person at another time, but he couldn’t very well leave things in this state when a leak like this was costing his client dozens of dollars a day on the water bill. In this economy?! He had to do something. Maybe he could—

“Hoh—“ He buckled forward, both hands clinging to the lip of the counter above as a contraction gripped him. A low, thin hum grew in his chest as he bore the vice, his fingers cramping. It left him panting when it passed. He dropped a hand to his belly, to the side that had gone wonky and pointy as his descending children protested being squeezed.

“Slow down, kids,” he whispered, chest heaving. “Give Papa a little more time.”

Once he caught his breath, he pulled a mask and spackling out of his bag. With his face protected from fumes and potential rot, he leaned forward—grunting as his belly pressed against the mat, as his twins’ weight stung his spine—and got to patching up the worst of the leakage.

Speaking of leakage… leaning forward like this, his chest felt incredibly tight and heavy. He wouldn’t be surprised if he took off his overalls after this and found sweet colostrum staining the inside of his undershirt. Good. He would be ready to feed his babies.

He got a good bit of spackling done before the next contraction. This one was the hardest yet. The air evacuated his lungs, forcing out a gravelly sound as his throat drew tight. On his hands and knees like this, the tension was the worst in his back, strung through his tailbone all the way to his anus.

When it had mostly passed, he unclenched his hands, and found his left trembling, with the shape of the spackling tool indented in his palm. He set it thoughtlessly aside and put both hands flat to the floor of the cabinet, needing leverage to follow his body’s instinct to rock back and forth on all fours. His lower back especially still felt horribly tight, and the pressure in his belly had only grown. But the rocking relieved some of the tension in his lumbar region and hips, though every shift backward made him feel like the baby might pop right out of him.

Releasing a trembling sigh, he picked his tool up and got back to work. The sooner he could finish, the sooner he’d be out of here.

He didn’t know how long he worked. In the back of his mind was a voice screaming that he should be timing these contractions, that he needed to leave for the hospital now, given how far they were from civilization. But at the forefront of his mind was the task. He just had to finish this. Then he would get in his truck and drive to the hospital and it would all be fine. There was time. There had to be. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his belly strained like it carried solid lead and his hips felt like they might not survive standing up, but there would be time.

Finally, he finished the work. It wasn’t his best, but it was pretty good considering how many times he had been interrupted by his other labor.

Dreading the ordeal of getting back on his feet, he crawled around gathering his things, belly dragging on the floor. He whimpered out a curse as another contraction took him, wringing out a deep, throaty moan.

“Ohhhh, ho, hoh- no, oh no,” he panted, leaning back into it until his rock-hard belly rested on his thighs. The angle helped his hips but made him feel so tight from his perineum to his lower back, granting him a sickening insight into exactly where his child’s head was angled. It hurt so *bad*, he didn’t even know if he could sit down like this, let alone drive.

By the time he realized he had broken the cardinal rule of laboring—keep your breathing calm—he was already panting. His head swam and he was starting to feel sick and the waves of panic left his limbs tingling. He didn’t have time. He needed an ambulance.

He reached into his pocket for his phone… wait. Where was it? Oh god. He patted over his many pockets, but already he could envision his cell still docked above his radio, where he’d left it, back in the truck.

“No, no, no, no,” he panted. How could he make a mistake like that?! “Dave, you dummy, you- you…” he couldn’t even think of another word for how foolish he was, all he could think of was the pressure, the weight, the inevitable forcing his body wide open.

“Calm down,” he mumbled, swiping the sweat from his brow. There was nothing else to do, now; he just had to get the phone.

Well— first, he had to get up.

Trying to even his breathing, he reached for the counter again and got his arms situated against the marble edge. Then he counted one, two, three, and heaved himself up. Or, he tried to. He barely even unbent his legs before his struggling lower back and split-open abs failed, his anvil of a belly pulling him back into a squat. The sensation of the baby plummeting punched a wheeze out of him and made his stomach lurch, and for a moment he thought the head must have actually popped out before he realized he would definitely know if that had happened.

He muttered, “Keep your head on, Dave,” and shifted his boots further apart before trying again. With a colossal groan, trembling limbs, and a full ten seconds of effort, he finally made it back to his feet. He leaned against the counter while he caught his breath, clutching his heaving belly with one hand.

But he didn’t stay upright for long. The next contraction came already, and he barely had time to eke out a noise of dismay before the pain bent him against the counter, the breath forced out of him as the tension pulled his chest towards his belly. His elbows caught him on the marble, but that jarring pain was a mere tickle compared to the sensation of every muscle in his lower body working to tear a hole inside of him. The sheer energy required for the contraction generated heat all through his crushed guts and pinched stomach, and he gagged, whimpering as he swallowed against the urge to vomit on his client’s beautiful counter.

Finally, it ended. His whole body trembled, his sweat speckling the marble. He only lifted his weary head because that kept the bile from rushing up his throat.

Much like being on his knees, bending over the counter like this felt oddly natural, keeping his pelvic bones splayed wide. He wanted desperately to stay there, but the fear of doing the rest of this alone gave him the strength to push upright on shivering arms. So, a hand to his spasming back and one rubbing his belly, he waddle-trudged to the door.

Though he’d feared the trek to his vehicle, it was actually a bit of a relief. Apparently all of that about walking being good for labor was true; it stretched his muscles and made his loosened hips feel even more open. The sensation of his baby oscillating with each step wasn’t necessarily good, but it was its own kind of relief, a bit of variety in the never-relenting pressure.

Finally, he made it to his truck. He leaned heavily on the trusty old girl as he rounded the hood towards the driver’s side. He opened the door and stared at the step up into the high cab before deciding he wasn’t up to climbing. Instead he turned to his side, moving his belly out of the way, and reached over the seat for his phone.

Of course, that was when the next one hit.

The tension and the pain converged on him again, nearly as bad as last time. But there was another feeling, one that took him by surprise too much to resist: the need to push.

His hands fell to his thighs. Knees bending, lungs swelling, head ducking, he instinctively narrowed every muscle down towards his abdomen. The pressure he’d thought couldn’t get any worse somehow did, made him feel like he was about to burst and implode all at once as it inched lower, reigniting the tension near his tailbone and shooting down to his asshole. A deep sound buzzed in his chest, his voice seeping out unchecked as the effort took him over. Deliriously, he thought about how proud he’d been when HRT first lowered his voice, and how he never would have imagined hearing his new baritone strain as he pushed a child into the world.

The contraction eased up, and he stopped pushing, light-headed, limbs tingling, gasping for breath. “Haaa… fu- huh… ohhh…”

Wow, yeah, that definitely was a head in his vagina. The obstruction made him feel a bit delirious, made him want to fall against the truck and twist and wail and squirm and push until it was out. But he couldn’t afford that kind of tantrum, and he knew enough not to push without a contraction, let alone standing over a gravel driveway in the middle of nowhere.

“Alright, Dave, stand up,” he mumbled.

He unbent his legs, but couldn’t bring himself to straighten out his back and lose the relief of his tilted pelvis. That made it a bit of a reach up into the tall cab for the phone. He almost knocked it out of its dock with his unsteady hand, but he managed to curl his fingers around it. It took him a few tries to successfully pull up the keypad and dial. As it rang, he dropped his arms to the seat and rested his forehead on them, hips instinctively swaying, belly heaving gently as he struggled to keep his breathing in check.

A calm voice came over the speaker. “911, what is your emergency?”

He gasped in relief, head snapping up. “Hey! Hey, hello, yes, I’m in labor. Baby’s coming faster than I thought. I need an ambulance.”

“Your wife is in labor?”

His heart sank towards his stomach, a long plunging sensation for such a cramped amount of space. “No, no, I am. I’m having twins.”

“Sir, are you aware it can be a class four felony to make a fraudulent 911 call?”

This far into his life as a transgender man, Dave wouldn’t have thought this sort of thing could get to him anymore. But with a child forcing him apart, it made him gasp a helpless sob.

“No, no, don’t hang up, please, my name is Dave, I’m transgender, as in I- I used to be a woman, but, I-I’m a man now, I just still have a- you know, a uterus, and I- I’m pregnant with my first - with twins, 36 weeks and- four days I think? I thought I had time, I thought - but the first baby is coming, I think I need to start pushing, and—“

“Whoa, whoa, okay, hey, it’s alright. You’re alright, I’m not hanging up. I apologize, sir. I’m here to help you. Can you give me your address?”

“Uh… shoot, I’m- I’m on a job, I have to…” he pulled the phone away from his ear and fumbled through apps before he got the map back up. He read the address off.

“Okay. I’m sending an ambulance to your location. Now, you said you feel like you need to push?”

“Yeah,” he rasped. “I don’t think it’ll take much. She- the baby’s through my cervix, definitely, she feels low- really, really low.”

“How long have you felt like you needed to push?”

“Uh- well, not long, just one contraction so far. But it was- it was really intense. And I’ve been having, um, bad contractions for a while.”

“Okay. How far apart?”

“I haven’t been timing them. Uh… maybe four or five minutes apart before, but now? Less than three. Maybe even two.”

“Okay. Is there anyone there who can assist you?”

He looked forlornly at the tree-lined road winding empty towards the horizon. “Nobody for miles.”

“Okay, that’s okay. Can you reach your vagina, sir?”

He looked down, and groaned a soft, wavering sound at the sheer mass filling his overalls. “I dunno. My belly is so big…”

“Alright. Can you try for me?”

“Oh, jeez. Okay. Uh…” He set the phone down, then stretched an arm out and dug his nails around the leather piping on the opposite side of the car’s seat, anchoring himself. Then he shifted his feet back to deepen his bend, puffing his cheeks with a loud exhalation as he slid his other hand down his immense side.

It strained his shoulder and left him wheezing, but he finally managed the seemingly impossible task of getting his hand between his legs. With some wriggling and the help of a foot lifted onto the truck’s stair, he was able to reach the warm center of his crotch, where his vaginal opening hid beneath layers of canvas and cotton.

“Okay— ah- sh- shoot- okay, I can reach.” He hissed through his teeth. “Barely.”

“Alright, when you insert your fingers, do you feel your baby’s head?”

“Uh… I can’t do that. I’m in overalls.”

“…Can you get them off?”

“Oh.” He withdrew the hand from between his legs. “Let me see if I can…” He reached for the clasp of his overall strap. Teeth clenched, he struggled with the little thing and cursed himself for not choosing something easier to get in and out of. He’d barely been able to get the damn things off and back on when he took his bathroom break before the drive, and now, with his underbelly distended all the way to his pelvis by his descending child, the fabric was pulled far too sharply to get any leverage for lifting the clasps.

It wasn’t until he heard a concerned, “Don’t strain yourself,” over the phone that he realized he was making a thin, forceful noise in his throat, and his forehead was actually quite hot with the built-up effort. He let go of the strap with a huff and found himself panting.

“Shit,” he said, then, “sorry. Shoot.”

“What happened?”

“I think I’m stuck in my overalls. My- my belly’s changed shape since I put them on, and it’s made them too tight. I can’t undo the clasps now. Heck,” he added, with one last vehement pull of the denim strap. “Okay, okay, I’ve got shears with me, so- maybe I can cut myself out of them?”

“That sounds like a good plan, as long as you’re careful.”

“Right.” He looked to his trunk, where he kept his tool kit.

Where it currently was not, because he took it inside for the job.

“Oh, no,” he mumbled.

“What?”

“They’re inside. My tools are.”

“That’s okay. It might seem difficult, but it’s recommended to walk during labor.”

Dave grimaced, but he knew from experience that the operator was right. The operator… “Hey- sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”

“Oh! Uh, Henry.”

“Nice to meet you, Henry. I’m Dave.”

“Dave, right. Hi, Dave.”

“Hi. I’m gonna stick you in my pocket while I head inside, okay?

“Okay. Just watch your step, you don’t want to fall right now.”

“Okay, Hen.”

He looked up towards the house, considering the length of the journey, while he reached for his phone. Eyes elsewhere, he didn’t realize he missed his pocket until he heard the case knock against the stair of the truck and hit the gravel below.

All instinct and pregnancy-brained impulse, he squatted down to pick it up. By the time he realized what he was doing, it was too late to change tracks; the enormous weight of his belly was already dragging him down. A helpless groan punched out of him as his legs hit their deepest squat and the weight inside him lurched down, straining his crotch, so low he was sure it must be just behind his pussy lips.

“Oh, jeez,” he panted, “oh god, oh jeez, oh jeez—“

“Dave? Dave, are you there?” The gravel made the speakerphone sound tinny and distant, like Henry was actually a small man hiding in the pebbles. “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” Dave rasped.

“What happened?”

“Just- dropped my phone like a dummy. Happens. I’ve gotta—“

Tension plunged through his pelvis. He yelped, dwindling to a thin rasp as he tipped forward. He managed to catch himself with one hand against the car, while the other clutched at his belly, lumpy now as his locked-tight muscles shrunk around the emerging baby, and the one still waiting in his womb.

Then the claws in his back and the pressure in his hips and the noose around his belly all tightened at once, defied by the massive disruption in his core. A single thought remained in his head:

“Needtopush.”

Over the blood roaring in his ears, he barely heard Henry saying, “No, not yet, not yet, you need to get the overalls off first. Hear me? Don’t push, you can’t push yet!”

When he had found out he would be delivering twins at the ripe age of forty, Dave had immediately worried he wouldn’t have the stamina to make it through labor, the possible hours of pushing.

He never would have guessed how difficult it would be not to push.

His throat caught on a loud, humming kind of moan, desperate to listen to his body, but he channeled the urge to push elsewhere and shoved his hand against the metal siding of the car until it dented with a thump. Despite his valiant effort not to move things along, he acutely felt his womb squeezing the baby lower, slowly, agonizingly stretching him until he was sure his whole birth canal was full.

Finally the contraction passed. Dave dropped forward onto his knees and scattered gravel as he reached thoughtlessly for the phone.

“Dave? Dave, you there?”

“I didn’t push,” he panted. “But- the baby feels so low. Oh. Ohhh, I’m so full. Ohhhhh god. I think she’s gonna come on the next one whether I push or not.” He made a forlorn little sound in the back of this throat. “She’s coming, her head’s gotta be coming soon, it’s so big, I can feel it—“

“Dave, hey, don’t panic, alright? I need you to try to feel through your overalls. Does your pubic region feel domed outward?”

Clumsily, he managed to get his hand down there. The area was sensitive, and the pain persisted, but the touch of his fingers barely agitated it. It all felt swollen, but then, it had for a few months now. “I don’t think so?”

“Okay, that means you're not delivering the head yet. Can you breathe with me?”

Right, he was panting again. He rubbed his belly in slow, easy loops, and tried to breathe with the rhythm Henry was demonstrating on the other line. When he felt a bit more stable, he mumbled, “Sorry, normally I don’t lose my head like this, I just thought I had more time, and—“

“You’re doing great, Dave. Just try to get to those shears as quick as you can, but don’t hurt yourself, okay?”

Dave wanted to mutter something a little mean-spirited about how that was easy for Henry to say, since he didn’t have the first of two babies filling his vagina, but instead he just grunted as he gripped the seat edge above him and started to drag himself upright.

Then: a strange snapping sensation inside him, a sudden release of pressure, and the baby slipped lower with a distinct feeling of becoming lodged, no longer an amorphous mass but now a very clear physical shape, complete with angles and edges wedged between his bones. He groaned, only to gasp at the sudden gush of moisture between his thighs. For a moment he thought he’d wet himself, but as the inseam of his overalls grew warm with more and more liquid, he knew what had happened.

“Hooooh. Okay. Okay, looks like my water broke.”

“Oh! Okay, that’s alright, Dave. Nothing’s changed. Just get those scissors, okay?”

“Oka—ayyyye, ohh hoh hoh. Wow.”

Apparently the amniotic sac had been doing a lot of work keeping baby where she was; as he stood completely, he found her so low that he couldn’t believe she wasn’t falling into his overalls. Which, based on how his pussy was burning, really seemed on the table.

He bent to one side with a groan and managed to get his hand between his legs again. The fluid had left everything clinging, and this time he felt it all more distinctively: the hill of his pubic fat stretched by what was happening inside of him, his engorged t-dick, the puffy folds that had been swelling by the day as he neared the end of his pregnancy. But when he spread his fingers and traced the area, cupped it in his hand…

“Okay, shoot, okay, the baby- uh- dropped a little when my water broke, and now I can feel the head. Not- not coming out yet, but- but I’m all- starting to bulge, like you said—“

“Okay, we’re gonna hurry up and get those shears, then, right?”

“Right. Right, yeah.”

It was, in fact, much easier said than done. Dave was hardly even walking anymore, his legs absurdly bowed around the growing burn, each step a heavy rocking motion as he fought the momentum of his belly. It wanted to propel him forward, pull him down.

Unfortunately, moving like so much molasses, he had nothing to do but reflect on his situation, and the indescribable pressure behind his cunt, and how it felt like his hips were being displaced by his trusty Black Widow pearl-reactive 12-pounder with the Predator V1 Asymmetric core. Then he thought about getting back into bowling for a moment before an innocuous step made his pelvic bones feel like they were grinding together, and he decided it was probably a bad time to think about his hobbies, since he was about to have two babies on his hands.

“Almost there,” he wheezed, as much to Henry as to himself.

“Good job, Dave, you’re doing great.”

No sooner had he put his hand on the door knob than he began to feel the tightening in his back and belly again. “Hoh, oh no, one’s coming, a big one— ohhhhh…”

He lifted his elbows and fell against them on the door, folding his forearms to have something to rest his head against, and to dig his nails into his own elbows. The pressure in his belly only grew, spreading down, locking muscles he didn’t even know he had, steel forcing the unyielding mass in his pelvis even lower.

“Ohhh I wanna push, I need to puuuush!” he groaned, but he didn’t. He made strange, almost melodic noises as he rode out the urge, eyes welling, throat dry. The baby kept sinking lower. The steady burn in his cunt sharpened, and the sting spread to his perineum. He whined, his legs instinctively trying to close to get away, but unable to shut with the baby where she was.

Finally it passed, and as the white noise died in his ears, he heard Henry babbling something at him.

“I didn’t push,” he whimpered.

“Good, that’s—“

“Doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, the head is coming. Ohh, it burns. It really burns, she’s coming, I’m having her now!” He groaned as he struggled to get a hand between his legs again. Then he gasped. “Oh, jeez. Oh, I’m so full, everything’s all pushed out, it’s bulging. It burns, it fucking burns, she’s coming now.”

“Alright, Dave, you need to get to those shears, then. Get those shears and you can have your baby, okay?”

With his next step, he suddenly remembered a diagram he saw of a mother pushing, how the baby stretched her open from her depths to her lips, her birth canal so wide it looked like her womb reached right to her cunt. He felt that now, his whole person transforming into nothing but a passage for his baby.

Every instinct told him to stop right where he was and drop into a squat, to work with his body’s painstaking rearrangement, help it fulfill its purpose, and push. But the baby could get hurt if he delivered her into these overalls and they stayed stuck. He took a trembling breath and finally opened the door.

The house looked dangerous and dirty in a way it hadn’t before, now that he knew he was about to give birth here. There were several renovation projects going on at once, the living room wallpaper being replaced and some superficial columns half-broken down, an unmounted mirror resting at a possibly hazardous angle against the wall. Random pieces of debris and loose screws littered the floor.

Dave whimpered gently as he trudged towards the kitchen.

“Dave?”

“It’s a mess in here. Ugh, I wanted to have my babies at the hospital.” His next breath shuddered, eyes blurring with tears. “God, I should have just gone when the contractions started, I’m already a bad father…”

“Dave, best thing you can do for your babies right now is focus on finding those shears. Remember, the ambulance is on its way, okay?”

“Right,” he gasped, and wiped a hand roughly over his eyes. “Right, yeah, I’m almost there. Here’s the— oh, oh, no, no, no—“

He just managed to get his hands on the kitchen counter before the next contraction wrested control of his body. His knees swayed apart and his back arched as his pelvis lowered. He heard himself making a loud, long, “Haaaaaaa,” sound that was somehow helping him bear the pain, but nothing could keep his body from beginning to bear down. He shook his head and panted, trying so, so hard not to push. But still the baby moved lower, and the burn somehow got worse, and his voice went raw as he cried out.

“Dave!?”

“Hurts! It hurts so bad! She must have crowned,” he whimpered. “Oh, it hurts, it hurts…” he trailed into repetitious mumbling, frozen exactly where he was, feeling unable to move except to rock back and forth fruitlessly seeking relief. It felt like every bit of tissue was stretched to its limit, like a single shift would rip him open.

“Dave, you need to get the shears now!”

“Hmmmnnnnn… nnno- no, I can’t, I can’t,” he groaned. “Head’s too big, I can’t…”

“You can, Dave, you have to. Where are they?”

He managed to peel his eyelids apart, the world blurry and throbbing. For a moment, he didn’t even know where he was, or remember what he could possibly be doing other than delivering this baby. Something about… shears?

He glanced back at his tool box. The shear handles should have protruded from the outer pocket where he kept them, but he didn’t see them.

Then he took a shaky breath and smelled the spackling. It came back to him—he’d used the shears to clip off a bit of hardened spackle at the spout of the bottle.

“Right. I left them under the sink.” Knees bowed awkwardly apart, he turned and began to stagger that way. With the solid form of his child dominating his hips, and the still-massive obstacle of his belly, he didn’t trust himself to bend on his own without falling.

So, finally, he answered his body’s plea and squatted. The baby still in his womb pressed up into his diaphragm as he did, forcing a wheeze, but he managed to get there. The stretch of his overalls across his throbbing gash of a cunt only increased the agonizing pressure, and he had the dizzying thought that the firm canvas had pushed the baby back inside.

“Okay,” he panted, “almost there.” He braced an arm on the counter above his head and slowly began to lean forward. A low groan trickled out of him as the tilt of his pelvis shifted the weight inside, at once a relief and an alarm as the pressure somehow increased.

“Hoooooh god,” he groaned.

“Dave?”

“She’s coming out,” he mumbled.

“Do you have the shears?”

“Yeah, they’re right here. I just gotta— Oh. Oh, I gotta— Haa- hah- ho, ho no—”

The contraction was a force that could not be bargained with, so much pressure distilled into such a small space that suddenly nothing was left within him but a blind, instinctive need to push. He reared back to grab the counter lip with his other hand, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally, finally did what his body had been screaming at him to do: he pushed.

Everything in his upper body transformed into counter-pressure against the wrecking-ball presence in his hips, even the air in his lungs, forced low towards his abdomen. He pushed, face growing hot, heartbeat pounding in his ears, a thin, gravelly noise grinding in the back of his throat.

And he felt it, now; before, he’d been so certain each time that the scalp must have reached his lips, but now, he knew the head was the only explanation for the agony licking from his cock to his asshole. The pain eclipsed anything he’d experienced so far, devastating everything between his legs as it all bulged and deformed around his arriving baby.

The shock of his ruined pussy caught up with his breathless lungs, and suddenly he could push no more, forced to rasp in ragged, desperate gasps.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he heard himself wailing, an attempt to say oh god unrealized in the desperation of childbirth.

“—ave, Dave, what’s happening!?”

“The head!” he cried. “The head’s coming out, augh, hmmmn, god, it hurts! Hurts so bad. Haaaaah.” Trying to escape the pain, he started to rock his hips, but that only tightened the canvas of his overalls against the baby’s head—and this time, he really did feel the resistance nudge it back inside. He locked still with a yelp.

“Fuck! No, no, she’s going back in, no, no!”

“That’s okay, that’s okay, You’re doing so good, Dave, you’re almost there, you just need to get out of those overalls and then you can meet your baby. Can you see the shears?”

He whined a thin, affirmative sound.

“Okay, good, you need to get them, okay?”

The two feet between Dave and the shears might as well have been ten miles with the massive belly still hanging from him, and all of the muscles in his pelvis displaced by an entire body.

He whimpered. “Mmmokay. Okay. I can do it. I just gotta…”

Dave was, in general, a slow and methodical man. But he had never done anything more slowly and methodically than beginning to spread his feet apart now, lowering his already-too-low center of gravity. As his legs spread, the blaze between his thighs brightened and grew, and his throat produced a strange, continuously-breaking wobble he didn’t know he was capable of, the kind of noise he’d expect from someone being dragged across concrete.

“Dave?”

“M’bending.” His voice went especially thin as he bent further and the second twin was pushed deep into his lungs. “Ohhhh they’re too big. They’re too big…”

“You’ll be alright, Dave, just keep going, okay? You’re doing so great. You’re almost there.”

He dropped one of his hands from the counter overhead and slapped it on the floor of the cabinet, trying to steady himself. Pressure mounted in his lower back. He began to groan, then whimper as it grew, and grew—

“Ohhhh it hurts, it hurts, it- huuuurrrggghhh…!”

There was no choice now but to push. He went totally silent, not even breath escaping him, trembling from his scalp all the way to his knees. Between his womb-stretched abs and the violently compressed muscles of his birth canal, it was like trying to pluck an elevator cable, expecting something held tense by thousands of pounds to budge.

But his body was made to do this. He pushed, and somehow he forced his child through, and his pussy lips stretched wider around the head, and finally he reached the end of his effort with a delirious, undignified yelp as the crowning child stayed wedged in his cunt.

Henry was saying something on the phone and Dave was pretty sure he wanted to say something back, but all he could think was that he felt like he was about to tear from all sides, his cock a white-hot point of tension, his distended perineum threatening to rip right open. But, despite the strain, his body held miserably solid.

Without thinking, he reached down between his legs. It was a little easier with his belly having lost some volume, squished easily by his stretching arm.

“Oh,” he rasped. “Oh my god. Oh wow. Okay.”

The center seam of his overalls bulged out obscenely. Gently, gasping, tears welling, he cupped the fabric stretched across the distended hill of flesh that used to be his crotch, and stroked the massive wet lump protruding in the center. As it was, he was fairly sure the baby would be eased back into his canal as opposed to being harmed by the rigid canvas, but he didn’t want to take any chances.

“Okay,” he said, now a bit soggy. “Baby’s- hoooo- baby’s crowning. Head- head’s almost out. I’m gonna. Gonna cut the overalls.”

“Okay, yes, good, Dave, you’re doing amazing.”

Maybe it was the fact that he could feel his baby’s head under his fingers, or just the ecstatic relief of the end being in sight, but he suddenly noticed how much feeling was in Henry’s voice.

“Thank you,” he groaned. “Oh. Hmmm, hoh, okay. Here I go.” Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from his baby and finally reached for the shears. They weren’t even especially far, leaving him a little embarrassed at how cloudy he’d let his head get in the pain, but it didn’t matter. He had them now.

Carefully, carefully, he eased his upper body back out of the cabinet. A high squeak tore from him as the change in angle nudged the baby forward ever so slightly, just enough to somehow strain his cunt further.

“Alright, Dave, how we doing?” Yeah, that was worry in his voice, wasn’t it? How sweet.

“M’okay,” he panted. “Here goes. Cutting now.”

It was then, taking one strap of his overalls in hand, that he realized he didn’t even need the freaking shears. The fastenings were loose now, his belly no longer the absurd blimp it had been with two amniotic sacs inside. With just one, he had plenty of slack to unhook the clasps. The overalls fell limply from his chest, though they still clung around the broadest part of his belly. His plain undershirt was transparent with sweat, showing the damp whorls of his chest hair and the dark peaks of his areolae puffing proudly atop his barely-swelling chest. True to his prediction, little spots of yellow clung to his long, enlarged nipples, his body eager to provide the baby’s first meal.

He took all this in as he caught his breath. “Okay, almost ou— Oh! Oh no- oh that’s so fast, I gotta—“ He set the scissors at his side and grabbed at the counter again, sweaty fingers slipping on the marble. At this point he really thought he was getting into a rhythm, mastering this whole pushing thing, but—

“HmmmmmmaaaAAAAAAAAGH!”

He stretched, and stretched, pussy lips humbled to ribbons of agony, a pain so potent it shot up through his guts right to his sinuses. But still he bore down, kept pushing, he could do it, for his baby, he had to—!

The head burst out. A strangled cry of relief punched from his chest, dissolving into exhausted laughter as he noticed the emerging child had tugged his overalls the rest of the way over the crest of his belly. It sloped out from under his too-small undershirt in an odd pear shape, all of the volume gone from the top, the second twin all but resting on his thighs.

Trembling, he reached down and felt the head through his freshly drenched pants.

“Dave?”

“I did it. Head’s out.” He panted. “Here, let- let me…” He shimmied his overalls down a little lower, unable to get them off his legs, but able to expose his undercarriage enough to push his briefs down. It was much easier to reach around, now, making it simple to dip his hand between his thighs and find…

“Oh, hi there,” he gasped. A sob hitched through him, his cheeks suddenly aching with the force of his smile. “Hi, sweetie, Papa’s here. I’ve got you.” He cupped her head, thinking both how incredibly small she was and how he couldn’t believe he shoved a head that big out of him. Belatedly, he remembered to feel down around her neck, a chill of relief flooding his limbs when he found no cord around the neck.

“Hooo, okay, head’s out, I think she’s all good, and- oh! Ah.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Kicking me still. Ouch. Ow.” He chuckled weakly. “Yeah, sweetie, hold on a minute, okay? Need another contraction and then you’ll have all the room you need, I promise.”

“Good, amazing job, man, that’s so incredible. You’re incredible.” Henry sounded a little breathless. “Good work.”

“Not done yet,” Dave mumbled, as the telltale windup of muscles told him the next contraction was building. “Here it comes. Heeeerrre…. Nnnnnngggh!”

With the end in sight, Dave forced strength he didn’t even know he had into bearing down, taking the strange feeling of the baby twisting inside his cunt in stride, his hand near and steady when he passed the first shoulder. His yelp of pain and the deep breath to replenish his air happened at the same time, making a very weird sound that he didn’t have time to care about in his determination. He dropped his other hand from the counter ledge and let his shoulder fall against the cabinet door as he reached between his legs, and the sliver of voice forced through with his effort rose to a roar—

And he pushed the other shoulder through. His daughter slid into his waiting hands in another gush fo fluid.

He gasped for breath, a little dizzy, and even though his body felt ruined, he didn’t really mind collapsing on his soiled overalls with his back on the hard cabinets. He drew the baby up to his chest and tugged his shirt out of the way so he could press her to his skin, nuzzled to his heartbeat and wiry chest hair, his face close enough to duck and kiss her, not particularly caring about the sort of gross cheesy white stuff smeared all over her, even though some got on his mustache.

“Hi, baby,” he gasped. “There you are. Oh wow. There you are.”

After a few insistent pats on her tiny back, she coughed and started to cry, and he nodded along, laughing. “Yeah, understandable, sweetie. I know. That was hard. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, wow,” came the voice from his phone. He’d almost forgotten there was someone listening.

He laughed. “Good lungs, right?”

“Great. Wow. Whew.” Poor guy. He probably usually didn’t have these kinds of calls, coaching a guy through childbirth.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. Don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad everybody’s okay.”

Dave smiled; he couldn’t agree more.

Still, while the baby suckled at his chest, he couldn’t help but be painfully aware of her umbilical cord spilling over his still-pregnant belly, where her twin turned and kicked inside.

Then—

“Hey, uh, Hen, how far’s that ambulance?”

“Uhhh… ah. Forty minutes.”

“Okay,” he said, voice tightening. “Okay. Well. I— aaaah. Mhh. Yeah. I think her brother might- ah- he might get here before that.”

It was a simple plan, but still, there were a few hurdles she had to jump to ensure everything went just perfectly. First was to arrange babysitting. Stacey and Carter had four children; two girls and two boys. Their youngest, Caleb, was nearly two years old, who had made a rather dramatic entrance into the world in a McDonald’s drive thru about 22 months ago. With four children, Stacey and Carter had very busy lives. It was rare they got any alone time these days, with football clubs, gymnastic class, not to mention the fact she was still breastfeeding the little one who was not so little anymore. Childcare for the evening was essential. 

A “date night” she had called it. And technically, that would be true. A nice evening together just the two of them, just husband and wife, and not ‘mum’ and ‘dad’. So she had packed off their brood in the car earlier - they were going for a sleepover with their grandparents. When she got home, she couldn’t help but feel the house was a little empty. Even if the quiet was a blissful change. 

Her husband knew she was planning a date night, a romantic evening for the two of them. What she hadn’t told him was the item she had bought online. One she had discovered in a very particular forum, something she very quickly ordered, and was oh so excited to try out. 

The Pregnancy Pill 

Ever wanted to know what it is like to be heavily pregnant and give birth? The Pregnancy Pill is a unique technological advancement that allows anyone with a uterus to fully experience the whole spectrum of pregnancy and birth. Simply download our app, connect to your individual pill, and choose your desired options. Rapid growth, large baby, multiple babies, long labour, short labour, posterior, breach… the possibilities are endless. And the best part - the special pill is 100% reusable. Once the baby (or final baby) is born, it will shrink back to the original pill size to be used all over again.  

As someone who had given birth for real four times, you would think that Stacey and Carter would be done with pregnancy. However, their youngest’s sudden and unprecedentedly erotic birth in the drive-thru had brought to light previously undiscovered kinks for the married couple. It took a few weeks or months to recover from the ordeal, but then the confessions came out, late at night when the kids were asleep. Both Stacey and Carter admitting just how fucking arousing the whole experience had been. So when Stacey made the discovery of The Pregnancy Pill a couple of weeks ago, she knew what she wanted to do. 

After the kids were at the grandparents, Stacey readied herself for tonight’s events. She had a long shower, shaved her legs and armpits, and afterwards put on her favourite maternity dress. The instructions were simple; connect the pill to the app on her phone, then, once connected insert the pill into the vagina. It took some negotiating to get her hand at the right angle, but Stacey soon completed her task. Next, the settings. 

She scrolled through the app’s different options. It seemed to run in live time, meaning that you could alter or change the pregnancy and birth during the process. That could be fun. Stacey grinned, imagining what Carter would do if left in control of the app. She didn’t go through to the birth options just yet, she would save that for when her husband got home. Looking at the time, he would likely be getting home in the next hour. Excitement twirled and danced in her stomach. Or maybe it was already The Pill. She better progress this pregnancy if she was going to get her desired response from her husband. 

There was a part of Stacey that was nervous about this pill, it wasn’t exactly from a reputable website. But her desires to play out all manner of unplanned or sensual births won out against any hesitation she might have had. As she scrolled through the pregnancy options, there were just so many, she settled on a tamer route for their first go. 

One baby. 9lbs. Anterior positioning. 

Pregnancy development: 30 mins to full term. 

From the second she clicked ‘Accept’ on her choices, Stacey felt an immediate change in her body. A steady warmth erupted from her womb, spreading down her thighs and up her spine. She shifted on the bed, breathing a little more measured as the gentle cramping began, her womb slowly expanding around the developing ‘child’. 

“Whoa… this… this is gonna be fun.” She chuckled to herself, her hand on her belly that was already forming the first signs of a bump. 

——————————

“Thank you.” Carter handed the cashier a twenty dollar bill, taking the bouquet of flowers in his other hand. They hadn’t been able to have a proper night alone in almost two years. Not that it was a large complaint of his, they both loved their children, and adored being parents. But to finally have a proper date night? Carter was prepared to make the most of it.

He left the shop, climbing into his car. It wasn’t far to get home, maybe thirty minutes at most. With a smile on his lips, he sent a quick text message to Stacey.

Carter: On my way home. Need me to stop and get anything?

Carter watched as his phone notified him that his wife had seen the message, a bubble with three dots blinking in and out as she typed up a response. It was simple, quick.

Stacey: Nope! Head on home love. 

With a smile on his lips, he put the car in drive, and began to navigate home. The entire drive he wondered what the plan was. A movie? Nothing in the theaters interested him or Stacey at the moment, all ridiculous action movies or remakes of remakes. Maybe dinner out in town? That made sense, he didn’t want her to have to cook unless she wanted to. Even if she did cook, he would ensure she wasn’t alone in the kitchen. In the end, it didn’t matter what the plan was. All Carter cared about was a night, just them, together. 

—————————-

What surprised Stacey most was the realism. As an experienced mother who’d gone through four pregnancies, she was well equipped to make the comparison. She expected the bump, that was a given, but the expansion and sensitivity of her breasts were an unforeseen bonus. Wearing her 1950’s style floral sundress, one of her favourite maternity outfits which had seen plenty of use with three of the four pregnancies happening during the height of summer, her bosom completely filled the larger cup size of the dress. 

Beneath her swollen chest was a gravid and undeniable bump. Naturally her hands moved across its surface, tracing large circles around the full size of the globe that now sat heavy on her hips. That was another pleasant surprise and something which added to its realism - the weight in her hips and pelvis. It was exactly like when she was heavily pregnant with her children. Not to mention the feeling of movement from within, the kicks and shifting as the ‘baby’ grew in her womb. It was just so real. 

Standing in front of the floor length mirror in their bedroom, Stacey looked in awe at her reflection. Within thirty minutes her regular body had ballooned into a maternal goddess, absolutely brimming with life. The relatively quick progress of the pregnancy meant she had to ride out the changes in her body. It wasn’t something she could pretend wasn’t happening, or to carry on as normal. The waves came in bursts, warm and sensual and almost pulsing, her womb expanding and muscles stretching to accommodate the growing foreign object. It wasn’t altogether painful, just a very strange sensation that was at times a little overwhelming. But now, now she was full term. The fact was undeniable. 

The rounded shape of her bump beneath the dress was very obviously hanging low, more oval and sitting closer to her hips. Not only that but her movements had altered. The increased weight in her pelvis made her legs part and the waddle Carter was so fond of to return. 

Carter. Shit. What was the time? He would be home soon. She had to move if she wanted to get the best possible reaction. 

Slowly, and very carefully, Stacey made her way downstairs. She could feel each step seemed to grind the weight of the ‘baby’ deeper into her hips. She couldn’t help the laboured breathing, the occasional huff, as she moved. 

Dinner was already in the oven, well the meat was. She still had to prepare the potatoes. Navigating the kitchen with a full pregnant belly, Stacey very easily slipped into the familiar routine. Stepping a little back from the counter so her bump could fit in the gap, cradling the underneath when she bent over to pick out a pot for the stove, swaying her hips side to side around the fullness in her pelvis when she stood to chop the potatoes. 

The smell from their dinner soon filled the warm kitchen; the glazed brisket in the oven and the roast potatoes on a rolling boil on the hob. Stacey put on some music to fill the empty space, the lack of children making it too quiet for the mother’s ears. She set the table for their dinner, using their fancy placemats and cutlery they’d got as a wedding present but seldom used, lighting a couple of candles in the centre. 

Time quickly passed, the afternoon sun turning the sky through the windows a glorious shade of amber and pink. Carter would no doubt be home soon. Stacey rubbed her giant belly, its size putting even the maternity shape of the dress to the test. She practically thrummed with excitement and anticipation for her husband to gaze upon her changed figure, to discover his surprise. 

——————————

The garage door closed behind him, the car already in park as Carter grabbed the flowers for Stacey. The steps to the mud room had to be carefully navigated, toys littering the floor. It always cheered him, the blatant evidence of their family life. The second the door opened, the most mouthwatering scent hit his nose. She really loved him.

”I’m home!” He called out, kicking off his shoes before walking further. “The grocery store didn’t have our wine, so I’ll make us some tea.” 

“No worries, darling. I’m in the kitchen making us dinner.” Stacey called back innocently, keeping the excitement from showing too much in her voice. 

The trek through the house was the same as always, though without the patter of little feet, it almost felt empty. Maybe their date night would be on the shorter side, if they both grew to miss their kids too much. He forced the thoughts aside with no small amount of will, and kept walking. Their home was simple, decorations on the wall weren’t for ambiance, they were memories. Their eldest, Nathan’s, first little league trophy along with a photo of him in his uniform. 

McKenzie, their second born who was conceived far faster than either of them intended, had her own pictures up as well. She hated being in photos, and Carter distinctly recalled using velcro on her pants to keep her in place for her one year photoshoot. She was the artist of the family, and anytime she handed either of her parents a new drawing, Carter would frame it, and hang it on the wall. 

Their third child, a girl who was the spitting image of her mother in all ways, was named Claire. At only four years old now, she was obsessed with her princess movies and would sing along as often as she could. He held no reservation that her overnight bag to her grandparents included at least three princess dresses and four tiaras. The family had a plan for a trip to Disney soon, and Carter couldn’t wait to see Claire’s eyes light up when she saw her favorite characters in the flesh.

Caleb, the youngest and easily their favorite story to whip out at dinner parties, had fewer photos on the walls. A small collage by the entryway to the kitchen had a picture of him as a newborn held in his mothers arms, a snapshot he’d taken mere moments after birth. Pictures from each month of his life covered the board, usually with another family member holding him. Carter smiled, as he recalled the memory of that drive thru.

”God, it smells good in here babe.” Carter rounded the corner. “Is there anything I can…”

He froze, mouth falling open but failing to formulate anything other than a dumbstruck exhale. Stacey was in the kitchen, cooking and looking as beautiful as ever, and yet… I’m dreaming, this is a dream. As his wife turned to stir potatoes, he got the full side profile. She was, pregnant?! No, that simply wasn’t possible. Not only had they both agreed that they’d wait till Caleb was older before discussing another baby, Carter was dead certain that she hadn’t been pregnant this morning.

”Did, I-is that a pillow?” He asked, his eyes conveying the confusion that his body radiated. It was a full twenty seconds before he was able to put together another sentence. “I guess these flowers are for two reasons now huh?” Carter approached, free hand going to her back while the other held the flowers before her. “You know if you just said you didn’t want to wait for the next baby, I would have been cooperative…”

Stacey couldn’t help but laugh. The sight of her husband’s jaw hitting the kitchen floor was exactly what she’d hoped. She could practically hear the cogs in his brain trying to make sense of the sight before him, knowing full well she was not pregnant when he left for work this morning. And yet there was a flash of doubt, in the grey flecks of his eyes, thinking for a millisecond that they might be expecting their fifth child and he’s just forgotten. 

“A pillow?” She mused, her hands naturally resting on the top curve of her bump that pulled the fabric of her sundress tight over its surface. A grin pulled at her pink lips as she took the flowers from her husband, placed them on the kitchen counter, and took his hand in her own. She placed his palm on the firm dome of her belly over the fabric of her dress. “Does this feel like a pillow darling?” She smirked. 

At that moment the ‘baby’ in her womb shifted, turning around and wedging its head in her pelvis and kicking up where Carter’s hand was resting. “Ooof-” Stacey winced but kept her wide grin and bright smile as she watched his eyes narrow in confusion. 

Well, that felt oddly realistic. And Stacey's acting, pretending as if there was a baby and it was kicking…

”It, doesn’t.” He said, still horrendously confused. Both hands pressed against her womb, as if through touch he might figure out exactly how she was making him believe this. He kept exploring, finding the little nuances through the fabric that told him this was in fact, real. Questions stacked unimpeded in his mind, and with no chance of sorting them out alone, he just enjoyed it for the moment. The baby within was moving, and the look on his face reshaped into that same magical expression he had for every one of her pregnancies.

”How?” Carter asked, and without waiting for her to answer, his fingers clawed at her dress. Inch by inch, the fabric rose, till her fertile dome of flesh was exposed before him. A spike of warmth within him formed as memories of the last time he saw his wife like this entered his thoughts. “Stace?” His eyes rose to meet hers, an effort he hadn’t expected to be so difficult. “Baby what is this?”

Her lashes fluttered, her cheeks tinged pink as her husband clawed the dress up to reveal the full expanse of her stretched and full womb. 

“Surprise.” She said simply, leaving it hanging in the air. It didn’t answer any of his burning questions, but they would get to that. For now she just relished the feel of Carter’s large hands of her bare skin, it was stretched and sensitive, exactly as it had been for every one of their pregnancies. 

“I… I wanted to do something special for us, for our first evening alone in well… years.” She needed to say more, to explain, he didn’t even know this technology existed let alone the fact anyone with a computer could order the device for recreational use. But it was too complicated, too many words to bring him up to speed when all she wanted to know was— 

“Do you like it?” 

Carter didn’t answer at first. The father of four knelt before his wife, gently rubbing either side of her belly. The man was still awestruck, Stacey was pregnant, and yet, not pregnant. Every synapse in his mind fired simultaneously, trying desperately to come up with what to say. All he knew, or at least all his mind told him, was that that ‘baby’ in there was his, almost like whatever she’d done had triggered his protective and fatherly nature. Before either of them knew it, Carter leant in, placing a kiss on her swollen middle. The ‘child’ within kicked, and he grinned, the curl of his lips making his whiskers prickle along the newly sensitive skin.

“I don’t like it.” He said, though his eyes remained joyous. “I fuckin love it.” Carter rose, hands never leaving. In his mind he couldn’t stop thinking how this was exactly how he’d acted with all her previous pregnancies. Hands had to be on her. “This is incredible…”

Habitually, Stacey looped her arms around her husband’s neck, her body pressed against him as much as her new swollen belly would allow. “Hmmm… I’m glad you love it.” She purred, kissing him softly. Their lips parted, tongues entwined and danced together in a passionate, well-practiced routine. 

“And the best part….” Stacey said, her breathing already heavier between the heated kisses. “…is that we can do this again and again….” She hummed “…so many settings to try… to play with….” Her teeth grazed his bottom lip while her fingers got lost in the salt and pepper locks of his hair. 

Carter’s hands were all over her body, massaging and squeezing every inch, and then, all of a sudden he gripped her widened hips and lifted her up in the air. Stacey’s legs wrapped around his hips instinctively and she squealed in surprise. He popped her down on the top of the kitchen counter, standing between her spread legs. His eyes were dark and hungry and laser focused on the gravid bump prominent between them. Her dress had fallen over her bare skin but he soon pushed it up, as if he needed to see her exposed and stretched belly in order to fully comprehend what was happening. 

“It’s called The Pregnancy Pill; a full simulated pregnancy controlled entirely via an app on my phone.” Stacey began to explain while Carter’s fingers roamed across her sensitive skin. 

Carter listened, but all the information she gave was quickly shunned into the back of his mind. The surface was so taut, and he couldn’t help himself as he reacquainted himself with every square inch of her skin. Radiating beauty like she always did, despite it being an artificial pregnancy. Carter lent in, eyes fixating on the little ripples courtesy of the ‘baby’ within.

“So, it’s fake, but it’s real?” He asked her, feeling his body growing warm thanks to his sometimes distracting attraction to his wife. A hindrance in public to be sure, but one the couple always was able to rectify like first time lovers. In the privacy of their home? Carter made no attempt to conceal his lustful looks towards Stacey. “What did you set this one to?” The question came with a gentle pat on her stomach.

She giggled, from the look in his eyes she was hopeful about all the fun they would have with this little device. 

“Just the one baby. A nine-pounder. And I can feel every ounce already in my hips.” Her words were breathless, both from the advanced pregnancy but also the arousal she felt coiling in her stomach. She shifted slightly on the counter, leaning back a fraction to feel the full depths of the large full term baby that was now curled up in her pelvis. 

“I only selected the pregnancy settings, to make sure you came home to find me like this. My date night surprise. But I left the birth options for you…” An arched eyebrow, the pout of her lips, gave her husband all the confirmation he needed for her playfulness this evening. 

“Oh is that so?” He asked, stepping closer. He felt her stomach pressing against his, a sensation he only now realized he’d missed so much. “Well, maybe we can wait to put those settings in…” Carter slid a hand around, finding the base of Stacey’s back. He leaned closer, planting another kiss. “I think this date night is going to be one to remember.” He whispered. Carter's eyes darted to the oven, the timer on it read just over ten minutes. Plenty of time for a little fun before dinner. “So, darling.” He began, his words a purr. “Did the pill cause your hormones to spike too?” As he asked the question, his grip on her lower back faltered, leaving only fingertips. His other hand however, had migrated, his knuckles brushing against her inner thighs.

Stacey shuddered. His hand was barely above her knee but the skin of her inner thigh was alive with sensitivity. “I dunno if it’s The Pill or… just the fact it’s been so long since we’ve had a night to ourselves.” Her breathing was heavy, which had nothing to do with the baby in her belly. “Oh Carter.” 

Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him close, her lips desperately colliding with his. Even with their advanced years, Carter still looked so handsome with a touch of ruggedness about him. The stubble on his strong jaw, the grey flecks in his brown hair, his large hands on her bare skin. The cologne he’d put on before work had faded and mixed with an intoxicating scent that was earthy and sexy and just him. Stacey moaned into his mouth, her tongue dancing around his with a passion she’d not felt in decades. 

His hand on her lower back pressed up, arching her spine towards him and squishing the heavy orb of her belly between their bodies. They both made a gravelled sound of pleasure, the huge swollen pregnant belly igniting their new desires, discovered following the birth of their fourth child. She wanted him, she wanted to feel him against her when she was gravid and bursting with life. They’d of course been intimate throughout all their real pregnancies but with the other symptoms of carrying a child - the exhaustion, nausea, aches and pains - they never went truly wild. But now, well now she had only been pregnant about an hour. Her body felt heavy and swollen but in the best way - no aches or pains or tiredness. It was perfect. 

His other hand travelled up her thigh, dancing dangerously close to the lace trim of her underwear. She grinned devilishly against his lips. “Careful now, you wouldn’t want to send me into labour would you?” Stacey whispered. As much as she wanted her husband right here and now, she didn’t want to peak too soon. Plus she couldn’t deny the call of the app and all the birth settings they’d yet to discover. 

Her words made his hair stand up on end, a shuddering breath escaping him. “I don’t know if you want me to answer that question honey…” 

Carter's fingers found her underwear, lifting them just enough to allow him to slip beneath. He tugged them, just enough to make sure Stacey knew what he was doing. His own pants grew uncomfortable as his body reacted to hers. The sight of his wife shuddering as his knuckles brushed against her lips made a devious smile appear on his face, a smile Stacey had not seen since that drive thru twenty two months ago.

“But…” He began, letting his fingers extend beneath the hidden fabric of her panties. “I could answer it.” Gingerly, his middle finger found her quivering opening, and with next to no pressure, slid up its center. “But I won’t answer with words my love.”

Stacey’s thighs twitched, her breath hitching, as her husband lightly traced the flesh beneath her underwear. “Oooohh… whoa…. C-Carter…” she moaned. Instinctively her legs drew together like magnets, trapping his hand between her thighs. 

“Y-you know you c-can’t— oooooha— trigger labour this way.” She tried to speak, to tell him their usual methods to bring on contractions wouldn’t work for this simulated pregnancy. Only the app could control what happens. 

Moving around and around, the pads of Carter’s fingers caressed her sensitive skin, pulling focus from the words she was trying to say. “W-we need— to select— the b-b-birth options darling—” But Stacey’s words cut off when her husband slipped two fingers inside of her and she nearly choked on the moan that rattled up her throat. 

He pressed his lips against hers, as he did, he curled his fingers into a hook shape. Carter knew just how to work her when they were in the mood, and the desires being felt in the kitchen were feral. The need to have his wife at that moment overcame everything. Her belly made it difficult, but Carter adjusted, bringing the hand that was on her back around to her womb. The two fingers nestled within her kept their work going, even as he subconsciously rose to his toes, a motion that, if they were both dressed for the occasion, would have embedded his ever hardening erection into her.

“Stace…” He groaned, moving from her lips to her jawline and down to her neck. “How’s it feel?” As he asked, he curled his fingers again, the motion becoming repetitive.

Her body rocked on the counter, circling back and forth in time with his movements, his index and middle finger hitting the perfect spot. “Oh— a-amazing…” she hummed, biting her bottom lip. 

The delicious pressure and weight in her womb was matched perfectly against her husband’s expert moves. He knew exactly what she liked, how to hold her, where to kiss her. Soon any thoughts of conversation were lost to the steady pulsing of pleasure building between her thighs. While Carter’s fingers worked their magic, his lips peppered her neck and chest with feverish kisses. He took extra time on the spot just below her jawline and earlobe, prompting an involuntary squeeze of her thighs around his hand. 

The things he wanted to do to her on the counter… it would absolutely test the construction. Carter's attention became far more involved as their passion flared. Stacey’s squeezing thighs only inflamed his needs. Before he knew it, her hands were on him, lifting his shirt to touch his chest, manicured nails glide across his skin as she pulled him a bit closer. The jostling of his belt made an audible groan escape his throat. Stacey had managed to reach down, an impressive feat of flexibility considering her gravid size.

It wasn’t long before he felt freedom, his jeans no longer containing his desires. Carter's fingers retracted, and the delicious whimper Stacey made caused a spasm as his body reacted. There was a pause as the couple stared into each other's eyes, this moment of intimacy the beginning of a new chapter in their life. Keeping her gaze locked with his, Carter guided himself in, enjoying the delicious flutter her eyelids made as her body accepted his.

Stacey had forgotten just how eye-rollingly good pregnant sex was, especially heavily pregnant sex with a baby so low and heavy in her womb. The air left her lungs as Carter slowly sunk inside, the fullness, oh the fullness. It was almost overwhelming but in the best way. “Oh god!” She gasped, her nails clawing beneath his shirt to both bring him closer and keep her steady. 

“Breathe” he whispered in her ear, foreshadowing words he would no doubt be saying to her in labour. 

It took a few moments, a few deep breaths, for Stacey to settle and adjust to the intense pressures, to the fullness in her lower half. She was right on the edge of the counter now, her legs high and hooked around Carter’s hips, while her arms moved from his chest to drape over his shoulders and hang down his back. The swollen orb of life was squashed between them, only adding to their arousal. Carter began to move, slowly but with purpose, a gentle rhythm as his hips moved back and forth, back and forth. Each thrust seemed to hit deeper and deeper, each prompting low moans from Stacey, husky in his ear while she clung to him and kissed his neck. 

The moment was electric, his hands holding her, their bodies pressed with such intimate closeness that he could feel every tremor. Stacey’s stomach shifted against his abdomen, and he had to consciously tell himself that it wasn’t a real baby in there, just a simulation. That didn’t stop his rising affection for her body though. Carters hand shot behind his wife. Palm down, he swiped it across the countertop, pushing away the ingredients she’d set aside for dinner. A ladle hit the ground with a thunk, but that was a non-issue.

His thrusts became more inspired, each one scooting Stacey back just a bit on the granite topped island. Knowing the counter was clear, he let his hand come back to her stomach. Unbeknownst to him, he’d found some discarded flour which now covered his palm, a white handprint on the side of her womb was the only evidence. One they wouldn’t notice till their moment of passion was at an end.

As Carter’s movements got more passionate, Stacey found her head tipping back, panting heavily towards the ceiling. Her dress was still bunched up between her enlarged chest and swollen bump, each thrust jossling her body making her breasts bounce. The feel of his hand was possessive on her belly, a shiver running up her spine, she loved how dominant and protective he got whenever she was pregnant.  

“Ohhhh… I’m… getting close….” She whined, feeling her muscles coiling, tense and pulsing on the edge of release. “T-tell me… how much you love me like this… t-tell me how you want to see me g-give b-birth…” 

“On your hands, nngh, and knees.” He groaned, his mind drawing a vivid image of how Stacey would deliver this pill baby. His climax was growing near, that warm sensation in his pelvis told him as much. “Wherever in the house you want…” Or wherever you can manage to waddle. Carter thought to himself. Watching her chest rise and fall to match his pace, he knew just how to get Stacey to fall from the cliff of her rising desire. He let go of her belly, sliding along her skin till he found her breast again. “All I know.” He said, his trembling voice unable to hide the fact that he was close. “Is I want you to push for me…”

The second his voice, gravelled and strained in her ear, mentioned ‘pushing’ it was game over for Stacey. With his fingers beneath her sun dress, squeezing her nipples while he thrust deep and uttered his own fantasy aloud, she couldn’t hold back any longer. With a gasp Stacey hurtled straight over the edge of pleasure, her inner walls clamped down tight around her husband. The orgasm rippled through every cell of her body, back arching and belly jutting against his, all the while her fluttering womanhood squeezed around his girth. She couldn’t help the high pitched moan of pleasure, calling out his name followed by a few expletives, riding the wave of the best high she’d felt in years. 

Carter wasn’t able to hold back, Stacey’s body pulled his release out of him like a siphon. With how busy they’d been after the birth of their fourth child, nothing had been this passionate. Always they were tired, always occupied, but this date night permitted a primal exertion of their mutual sexual frustrations. His chest and stomach tightened as his body pulsed, spilling the seed that gave them both four perfect kids. Even now, he smiled at the thought of this ‘baby’ in her womb being another for the group. They remained there, panting, recovering from their sexual highs.

“Well.” He said, his voice hoarse. “That was, something.” Bloodflow began to return to its normal circulation as he reached up to cup Stacey’s cheek. “I will never not find you sexy baby.” Carter grinned, then helped her to rise up to a seated position. As he pulled out of her, her panties slipped back to their original position between her thighs, already darkening as remnants of their arousal leaked out. “Do we need to worry about that?” He asked her, tucking himself back into his own pants before helping her down off the counter. The way her hands instantly shot to her lower back brought the endearment back out instantly, and his palm joined hers to apply pressure.

“Hmmm? Oh, I’ll clean the surfaces later, don't worry.” Stacey mused with a smile, knowing their night was only beginning. 

Now standing, the familiar weight of the baby dropped back into the bowl of her hips, pulling at her spine. Their love making had been passionate and thrilling, but her age and “pregnancy” made for a slower recovery. Her breathing was still a little heavy as her husband massaged the base of her spine. “Thanks darling, I’ve only been pregnant an hour and can already feel it in my hips and back. Baby is definitely a big one.” 

Their post coital quietness was rudely interrupted by the dinging of the timer on the oven. “Oh… that’s dinner ready then. Assume you're hungry after all that exercise?” She said coyly. 

“I am, and I can only imagine how hungry you are.” Carter grinned at her, then leant in to kiss her forehead. “Now, go sit down. You worked hard on dinner, I will serve.” He helped her to the table, pulling out a chair before retreating to the oven. All of it was ready, and Carter quickly made plates for them both. When he returned to sit beside her, he admired her body’s curves yet again. He knew her eyes were on him the entire time he worked in the kitchen, just as he stole glances at her. 

“Bob appetite baby.” He said. “Don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you.” 

“Did you just say ‘bob appetite’? It’s bon appetit darling.” Stacey couldn’t help laughing at her husband’s faux par. “I was thinking the same thing actually. The father of my children, still devilishly handsome, who enjoys pregnancy as much as me. It’s probably why we have four kids already, though perhaps we didn’t fully understand why until Caleb’s birth.” She ran a delicate hand over the full curve of her bump affectionately, clearly enjoying its weight sitting over her thighs.  

From his pocket, Carter pulled out Stacey’s phone. He’d seen it open on the counter, the app already loaded. Just out of her reach he scrolled, finding all the options. The lump in his throat threatened to come all the way out. There was no way they’d only do this once, so he wasn’t trapped on options.

As she began to eat her dinner, the brisket practically melting in her mouth, she saw Carter on his phone. Wait, no that was her phone. His grin told her immediately what he was looking at. 

“So…. What do you think? The app is amazing isn’t it. All the different settings.” She was ravenous, speaking slightly with a mouth full of food, eager to eat but also eager to talk about what would be happening next on their date night. “I haven’t looked at any of the birth options yet though, I got a bit too sidetracked picking the pregnancy ones.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. Stacey had taken a little peak at the labour and birth settings. From baby’s positioning, to events to trigger labour or water breaking, all the way to the length, intensity and sensations of the contractions - a painful to pleasurable scale. She didn’t need to spend long on the app to know how perfect it would be for them. After a quick glance she did swipe out of the settings, excited over the idea of Carter controlling the birth entirely, to not know what exactly would be happening added another thrilling layer to this whole experience. 

“Found anything that takes your fancy?” Stacey asked, shovelling another forkful of dinner into her mouth. The tone so casual she could have simply been asking what he wanted to watch on the tv that evening. 

“A few things.” He said, setting the phone down for a moment to combine his meat and potatoes onto a single fork spear. “I can’t believe they thought of all these. Baby they even have intensity slides for the ‘urge’ to push. Not the pushing itself, the urge.” While he wasn’t exactly the most tech savvy man, he did at least have a working understanding of phones. He tapped a few different options, scrolling idly as he experimented. Nothing was set in stone, and from what he could tell they could reset or even end the pregnancy at any moment should they decide to. 

“Oooo, baby head size? Length, weight, hell there’s a twins option?” Carter smiled deviously at his wife. “We can save that one for later.” After another few bites, he went back to the labor options. The amniotic sac had numerous options for it, thickness, capacity, even how durable it was. Carter subtly, as if he were just scrolling down a shopping app, slid the capacity to add twenty percent. At first it seemed like nothing happened, but then he felt the table get nudged, and saw Stacey’s bump which had been less than an inch away from the edge was now pressed firmly into it. “I think we are going to get into trouble with this app.” He said with a laugh. “There’s no way we will be productive adults when alone if we have access to this.”

“Ooof… I felt that. What did you do?” Stacey grinned, she readjusted her position on the chair so her belly wasn’t quite as pressed against the table’s edge anymore. 

“Ohhh nothing. Just wanted to give you more reason to waddle.” He winked at her, and continued to eat.

After Carter confessed to his impulsive fingers, Stacey could feel the excitement and thrill bubbling in her belly that had nothing to do with the ‘baby’ in there. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for things to get going, to have her husband quite literally throw her into labour. “You’re loving this already aren’t you?” She teased, her legs parting just a fraction beneath the table to accommodate the slight increase in her bump size from the additional amniotic fluid. 

Throughout their dinner Carter continued to scroll and investigate the app’s full potential. Sometimes he would tell her what he’d found, other times he just gave her a lustful evil smirk. The look in his eyes alone was enough to make her thighs clench with anticipation. After what felt like an eternity, both sets of knives and forks were placed together atop the empty plates. 

Carter rose from the table, grabbing his and Stacey’s plates. They’d deal with all those later, or at least once things kicked off and even mundane tasks became highly entertaining. While in the kitchen, he pulled out her phone again, the button to trigger labor was so, so tempting, but the buildup? He couldn’t think of anything sweeter than his memories with Stacey as they waited for progress. Humming lightly, he let the app start some contractions, Braxton Hicks, strong, but nowhere near their peak ability. It was only a few second delay before he heard the humming Stacey made in response, and he felt that lust grow yet again. 

“Feeling something honey?” He asked without looking, his tone indicative of his hand in her newfound situation. “Something like… little bits of pressure? Maybe the head nestling lower.” 

“Ooooh….mmmmh….” Stacey sat back in her chair, both hands either side of her swollen belly that was suddenly very tight. She hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t noticed Carter taking the phone with him from the table. She was idly enjoying her simulated pregnancy and sipping her drink when her muscles began to clamp and squeeze. 

“Hooooo… okay…. This feels… realer than I expected. Not too strong but… they're definitely something. My belly is so tight now.” Stacey shifted on her seat, her legs wide on the chair as she rocked and held her bump, feeling and noticing every little change. “Baby does feel lower now… did you… did you start labour already?” 

She wouldn’t be annoyed if he had, she was just expecting a little warning perhaps. Not that she had any warning for any of her real pregnancies, but at least there had been subtle signs. This felt a bit abrupt. But she couldn’t say that was a bad thing. 

“Kinda.” He turned around, leaning on the counter for a moment as he watched his wife hold her belly. “Just some practice. It’s been almost two years hon.” He pushed off, coming to her side. Carter placed the phone, screen up, in front of her. As he leaned in, he whispered to her. “But maybe we don’t need practice. Just… jump right in.” He tapped the contraction button, the real contraction button.

Stacey sucked in a breath, mouth falling open as the contraction gripped her. Carter had no idea how strong it actually was, but the way one hand white knuckled the table, and the other shot to her stomach, he imagined it was strong. Her fingers enclosed on her dress, scrunching it up in her palm. It was, quite something. 

“Does that feel like old times?” He asked, planting a kiss on her head. “Baby wanting out and telling you as much?” The timer on the contraction was coming to a close, and even though he could extend it, that wasn’t what he wanted… yet. His palm found her rock hard womb, and rubbed wide circles. “Only ten more seconds love.”

“Mmmmmgh…. Hoooooo…” Stacey’s eyes had closed, already having to focus through the contraction, even though it was only the first one. There had barely been any sort of warning between Carter’s fingers pressing that button and the abrupt tightening of her belly. No light tensing, the echo of a contraction on the horizon like with a real pregnancy. No this almost jumped straight into the wave, as if she was already hours into labour. Her belly was a ball of iron beneath her dress, firm and tense, muscles squeezing inward and down. It was painful, but with Carter’s voice caressing her ears and his large hand possessive over her contracting womb, it was painful in the best way. 

Stacey released a hummed moan as it peaked and ebbed away. Slowly opening her eyes to find Carter’s face oh so close to her own. “You… you’re gonna be insatiable with this…” she breathed heavily, recovering slowly. “That was damn strong for a first contraction. I have half a mind to take that phone off you.” 

Stacey playfully tried to take her own phone back but Carter was too quick. Her swollen belly impeded her reach and it was gone before her fingers could swipe hold of it. 

The quickly disappearing phone was followed up by a passionate planting of his lips on hers. Eyes gleaming with love and intent, Carter knelt before her, already knowing just how soon the next contraction would come. Handy that, being able to set progress and timing. Stacey of course wouldn’t know till it came, or till his eyes no doubt glinted with anticipation. He put his hands on her, her womb returned to its softer, round shape. 

“I guess we need to decide what should happen tonight.” He said, as if she wasn’t actively having a ‘baby’. “Are we watching a movie?” Carter patted her bump again, he just couldn’t help himself. “Are we… going to the bedroom?” His fingers formed into a little claw, tips making circles as he rubbed. “Do we need to have a look at all your old maternity clothes?” So many thing, there were so many things he wanted to do with her, to her. His mind raced, and he just couldn’t decide what he wanted to do next with her.

“First things first…. Help me up?” Stacey asked with a resigned giggle, knowing from experience she would struggle to stand unaided. “They’re too low already, think I want to move around a little.” 

It was strange how easily they fell into routine; the way she moved, the way his hands never left her body, both Stacey and Carter slipping back into the familiar rhythm of pregnancy. They’d done this four times already so it was an easy shift. Carter hooked an arm around her waist, helping her to her feet. She had to pause once standing, the distinct movement within, of the baby dropping into her pelvis, caught her breath just a fraction. 

“Ooof…. This feels familiar…” she muttered, one hand on the table while the other rubbed the side of her belly. At Carter’s raised eyebrow she further clarified. “Baby’s dropped, that contraction must have moved them down, I can feel that steady weight right…. Yup, definitely between my hips now.”  Stacey could help but purr the last few words, knowing how much Carter would appreciate the information. 

“Mm, must be a sign that things are gonna go quick.” He knew that they wouldn’t be, no way on Gods green earth was he going to have Stacey be rushed through both of their favorite part.

Even though it was date night, the mum-of-four couldn’t entirely switch off and the thought of the messy kitchen creeped into her mind. “Can I just tidy the kitchen first? I don’t want to have to do it later, plus I kinda want to be standing for a little bit at the moment.” She said honestly, a subtle circling of her hips as she got used to the ‘baby’s’ new low position. 

“I suppose…” He said in mock disappointment. He too was going to be driven nuts if the kitchen was left a mess. Being proactive was important with kids, they’d learned the hard way with their first born, what gets put off till tomorrow gets stacked up with all of the other things they’d said they would do later. Thankfully Stacey’s mom had come and helped them to get their house back in order.

Carter helped her into the kitchen, hand never leaving the base of her spine. He’d gotten too used to her gait returning to normal, a situation rectified after her waddling led to their hips bumping into one another. It made him love her even more, getting to see all these little nuances again, her mannerisms that gradually increased in commodity through pregnancies. Before he let her do anything, he made her face him, and stared into her eyes yet again. He never was going to tire of doing that.

“You wash and I put away?” He asked. “I seem to remember this…” He rubbed her belly. “Always got in the way when you tried to put dishes in the cabinets.”

Stacey laughed, the action making both her bump and breasts jostle as she giggled. “Yes, the amount of times you man-handled me away from the cabinets because you thought I was going to - what was it, oh yes - going to squash them.” 

Stacey was still fiercely independent, even when pregnant, and often (perhaps due to sheer stubbornness) she refused to allow her condition to affect her day to day activities. Carter however seemed to get fiercely protective, not overbearing but cautious and fussing. His whole world was his wife and children so Stacey understood, albeit had the potential to get annoyed. 

“Fine, I’ll do the washing up and you can put everything away.” She rose on her tip toes, planting a kiss on the side of his face before twisting towards the sink. While she filled the basin with hot water Stacey felt Carter’s hands glide across her body, squeezing her hips before moving around to cradle the weight of her belly. His stubble grazed the back of her neck and shoulders, peppering kisses while he enjoyed feeling the weight of her womb. 

“Mmm… Stop trying to distract me Carter— oh shit-!” Stacey gasped, her belly abruptly and harshly turning to stone once again. The second real contraction stole her breath away and she gripped the sink with a low moaning sound. 

Even without the ability to see her stomach from his position, his hands felt it all. The weight he’d been holding was suddenly lessened as his wife’s body ticked another contraction off of the number before the baby would come. He quickly made sure she was supported, caressing her stomach with his hands as her hips swayed side to side against him. The rapidity of it was intoxicating, as was Stacey’s reaction to it. Carter found himself swaying with her, humming into her ear as kisses peppered her exposed skin. Nothing was said, until he felt her womb lower back into his palms, and her tensed body relaxed.

“Good girl.” He purred. “That was a rough one, is the level ok?” As much pleasure as he found in it, a nugget of concern remained. He didn’t want her to feel more than she wanted to.

“Mmmm… yeah… it’s okay….” She hummed a quiet response through the tail end of the contraction, her hips still swaying with Carter's, side to side. “I don’t mind their strength, it’s kinda fun, adds to the drama. They just come on much quicker than real contractions. Like I don’t have much time to brace for it.” 

They were both discovering this pregnancy pill and its technology together. It was a proper simulated pregnancy, which so far was true, but there were bound to be slight differences to the real thing. For Stacey, during her previous labours, her body could feel when the next contraction was coming. Perhaps a sense or instinct, or perhaps they just ramped up with a bit more of a wave. But these, these crashed through her womb like a thunderclap, sudden and abrupt. It wasn’t bad, just different. 

“You might need to be a little more hands on with these labours darling, than I usually allow.” Stacey said with a smirk. “If they continue like this with no warning, well, I won’t want to let you go in case one creeps up on us.” 

“I won’t go anywhere honey.” Carter told her. “I haven’t missed a birth yet, and I won’t be missing any.” He rubbed her back, then looked her up and down assessing. “You sure you’re ok to do the dishes and clean? I can do them while you lean on the counter.” He knew better than to tell her to sit down, but maybe he could secure a little comfort for her by making her not need to lean and bend. A thought occurred, he could make it so she wasn’t able to do the dishes. Too many contractions too fast. Perhaps a little encouragement from the app was needed.

Carter removed her phone from his pocket, and placed it on the counter, screen unlocked and visible for her to see. He didn’t see a way to alter the contractions buildup, perhaps that was a more advanced setting that in their eagerness, the couple had overlooked. No matter, there will be plenty of time to experiment. 

“Carter…What are you doing…?” Stacey’s eyes narrowed at the phone, glaring brightly beside the sink, her hands still resting on the counter’s edge. With joyous slow torment, Carter’s finger hovered over the screen. Then he kissed her, first her neck, then cheek, and in a moment of distraction she turned her head to the side and his lips landed on hers. She moaned pleasurably into his mouth and while her eyes closed… Carter tapped the screen. 

The reaction of her body was instant; the scrunch of her eyes, the sharp inhale through her nose, her knuckles white gripping the sink while her hips twitched back against him. The contraction raged through her body like a storm, tight and unyielding and focused. With her muscles contracting she broke the kiss with a humming moan, bending forward into the twisting cramp, her ass pressing against his hips. 

“Oooooohhhh…. Oh not f-fair…. Y-you barely g-gave me any t-time between those….” Stacey panted, instinctively shifting her weight side to side through her hips, her ass swaying against him while she rode out the contraction. 

“I know.” His voice betrayed the devious smile playing on his lips. Carter let himself lean into her a bit, the pressure of their bodies pressing against one another yet again in such a short time left his chest fluttering. “But if I give you too much of a break Stace, you’ll forget how it feels.” And I can’t help that you’re so damn sexy like this. He left unsaid. “Cmon, you know the motions to ride it out.”

Carter gripped her hips, making her shifting weight far more exaggerated and sensual than was necessary. But, he knew Stacey in her state would still recognize his enjoyment. He pressed with his thumbs, hard, digging into the muscles of her lower back as his hips pressed against her rear. Unable to actually see her belly from this position, Carter was left to figure out when it ended based purely off of her breathing. Her shoulders had curved in ever so slightly as she braced, and for a moment he could have sworn her knees wanted to bend as well. Too soon for that love. The baby is going to take its time. 

“I’ll give you five minutes.” He whispered after he’d seen her shoulders relax. “Five minutes, then we will see if the app is going to be gentle.”

Stacey released a long drawn out breath, lifting her head and straightening up after the contraction.  Turning around with a feigned glare of annoyance, she playfully bumped her hip against his body and stepped away from the sink. 

“For that, you can wash the dishes.” Her lips pulled tight, trying to keep from smirking. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Carter didn’t stop his grin, and recognized Stacey’s attempt to hide hers. He kissed her cheek and gently ushered her out of the way of the sink.

While Carter busied himself with the dishes, Stacey waddled around the kitchen island with her hands pressed into the base of her spine, arching her back and pushing out the full swell of her belly. Already she could feel the effects of the pregnancy in her muscles, the familiar straining and aching of carrying additional weight in the depths of her pelvis. But she adored the feeling, the changes of her body and the shifting of her centre of balance, of feeling just so… gravid. Even though she was in no way in control of this labour, the desire to move around and “help” the baby down was something unconscious and ancient. It didn’t matter that this was a simulated pregnancy or that the baby wasn’t real. Her instincts remained exactly as they had been for each of their four children. 

“Are you gonna warn me when the next one is coming?” She asked, pausing to rub the side of her bump, her eyes drawn to her phone that Carter kept in close reach. 

Carter sat the skillet to the side along with all the other dishes he’d done so far. Absently he shrugged. 

“Maybe. Though if you remember hon, I did say five minutes.” He looked over his shoulder at her, the corner of his lip curling. “Hope you’ve been keeping count, cause otherwise it’s gonna be quite the surprise.” He had been keeping count, and knew that she was about to be hit with another contraction. Thirty, maybe forty seconds at most. “Next one if I remember right… is going to be a bit more intense.” Carter quickly scrubbed a plate, then turned to face his wife as he dried it with the towel. His eyes scanned her up and down, lingering on her stomach as if waiting for it to change in some way. The kitchen was silent save for the steady breathing of Stacey. A calm before the storm, one that was rapidly forming and about to break loose.

The glint in his eyes was intoxicating, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. Stacey kept her position behind the island, needing a barrier between them or she’d lose herself in those deep hues. The not-knowing was exhilarating, even more so because he knew. Carter knew when the contractions would hit, how strong they’d be, what he had chosen for the birth of this ‘baby’. And she loved every second he gazed at her with anticipation. 

The only warning she had was the minute twitch of his lips but it wasn’t enough to steady herself before the contraction took hold. Stacey felt her stomach hardening beneath her dress, the muscles clamping together and pulling the weight inwards towards her spine. She gasped, clutching the bump automatically. 

“Ahhh….ooooooohhhhh Cart—” she couldn’t get her words out, the air trapped in her lungs as her body suffered the intensity of the latest wave. He was right, it was stronger, oh so much stronger. All of the weight inside her womb was pressing down, being squeezed deeper into her hips and forcing her stance to widen. Stacey’s body buckled, curling over the globe of her belly and grabbing the nearest thing in reach to hold on to - the edge of the kitchen island that served as a breakfast bar. Carter was over the other side at the sink, watching with rapped attention as his wife panted and bent forward. 

“Ohhhhhhh… there’s pressure n-now….” Stacey moaned, a deeper sound than normal, evidence of just how low the baby had dropped. Her fingers gripped the surface’s edge while her knees began to dip. The boulder in her hips demanded more space and she could only oblige - lowering into a squat with a husky groan and disappearing out of Carter’s line of sight. 

The unbothered saunter Carter did as he walked around to her side was calculated. His mind raced with what he wanted to try and what scenarios they’d dreamed of to play out. Left without a decision, Carter opted to simply experiment. He knelt by her, brushing her hanging hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. 

“Easy now hon. Pace yourself, you have no idea how long this might take.” He started to rub her back as he spoke. “Labor could be an hour, or, it might last until just before the kids are dropped off tomorrow.” Carter leant in, waiting for Stacey to raise her head. He kissed her, never tiring of the taste of her lips. “Can’t have you getting too exhausted.” That last contraction he was sure brought an urge to push, perhaps not one so intense that she needed to, but enough. Carter took her hands, and rose, letting his eyes linger on how she was forced to keep her feet apart now. The ‘baby’ was deep in her pelvis.

Stacey groaned as she stood, feeling every inch of the simulated pregnancy deep in the bowl of her hips. “Mmmmgh…. low…. feels so low….” Her words were breathy and almost musical in her constant soft humming. 

Carter guided her hands to the counter, only for her to snatch one away to press into her back. Her intoxicating movements and sounds kept distracting him from, well, everything. In his pocket, the phone buzzed. As he pulled it out he saw a notification.

PLEASE SELECT WATER BREAKING PARAMETERS

“Think you can hold on till I finish the dishes?” He asked, all the while pressing the very specific setting he wished to trigger her waters. Orgasm. “I promise I’ll only have one or two more contractions come before I’m done… maybe.”

“Hmmm…sure….I’ll be f-fine….mmmmh….” Stacey hummed, pressing the heel of her palm firmly against the back of her right hip, needing any sort of counter pressure she could find. “Just be quick darling…. Oooohh…. Cos this feels just like it did with Claire…. Just before I hit transition.” 

Keeping one hand on the counter and the other deep into her lower back, Stacey didn’t feel like she could even walk anymore. That last contraction had moved everything so low she daren’t step too far or move too much for fear of the ‘baby’ falling out. She knew it wasn’t possible, not only physically but also because the birth was 100% controlled via the app, but still that fear kept her feet planted on the floor. 

Stacey focused on her breathing, relishing the gradual loss of control of her body. This was really happening, they were actually doing this, the weight and size of her belly attested to that fact. The next contraction came quick, mere minutes after the last, and just when she thought she’d made it through - another contraction started before the previous had even ended. She growled, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island and swinging her hips around the insane pressure between her legs. 

“Ughhhhh…. Ohhhhhhhh—!” Her sounds were low, uncontrollable already. Her head was buried against her folded forearms, panting and moaning as everything dropped lower and lower and lower. The pressure was so real, undeniable and unrelenting, and getting more and more urgent by the minute. It was crazy how quick she had advanced; they were sitting eating dinner not long ago and already she was finding herself trying not to bear down. 

“Nnnghh— ohhhhh Carter—” Stacey whined, rocking her hips back towards the dinner table, her weight fully forward against the kitchen island. “I— ohhhhh—I think I wanna pp— puuuush— mmmmmh….” 

“Oh?” Carter was down to the last few dishes, the app sitting nearby telling him exactly what his wife was feeling. “Pushing is pointless Stace, but if it makes you feel better.” With no ceremony, he wiped his fingers with a towel and tapped the phone screen. On cue, he heard Stacey’s whine. Just for the fun of it, he’d ramped up the contraction, making the ‘baby’ demand progress while actually preventing her from making any. 

When he’d turned to face her, Stacey’s breathing was rapid, her knuckles white as she put a death grip on the countertop. 

“You pushing honey?”

His only answer from her was a low humming groan of primal instinct. Carter kept cleaning, wiping the final dishes before the contraction had ended. At a glance, the app said it would go for another full minute. To offer her a reprieve, Carter ended the contraction, stuffing the phone into his pocket once more.

“Ooooh—fuck—” Stacey eventually uttered, the contraction releasing enough to be able to speak. Her body was flushed, each pore overheating and over sensitive. Slowly lifting her head, breathing heavily, she glanced at her husband. He was still innocently drying the dishes, a false halo practically sitting above his head, but that smirk... She wanted to be mad, but the whole situation was too damn enticing. 

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to be pushing in the kitchen.” She stated plainly, her breathing still laboured, still recovering. Her hands moved, reluctantly letting go of the kitchen island and dropped down to cradle the weight attached to her hips. She would never get tired of this. 

Carter was putting away the final items, reaching up to the top cabinet easily. Stacey waddled over, staying close to the countertop just in case she needed something to grab hold of. “Is that what you wanted…. to see me start to push right here in our kitchen? Where we make breakfast every morning, have dinner with the children every night, so you’re reminded every day of the sight of your wife in heavy labour?” Her voice dripped with seduction, her fingers dancing up the sides of his waist across his shirt until they reached his arms and shoulders and she wrapped her hands behind his neck. 

“Hmmm.” Carter wrapped his arms around her, letting his hands fall to her bum before eventually resting on her hips. “I won’t lie.” He started. “Having an image in my head of you pushing in every room in our house isn’t a bad thing.” Carter grinned at her, especially as he felt the artificial kicks coming from her stomach. He made a mental note to investigate if they could make the baby more ‘active’. “Pushing in the kitchen, holding back in the pool, moaning while in the shower.” Every square foot of their home being the site of a birth wasn’t unappealing. 

The couple remained in the kitchen a while, Carter using her swaying hips to form an impromptu little dance. The moment made him think about their prom, all those years ago. He recalled Stacey with vivid clarity. Hair up in a braid he to this day couldn’t have figured out how to do, and a beautiful dress. Years had only made Stacey more gorgeous in his eyes. 

“We got a lotta real estate in here Stace.” He said, doing another rotation with her. “So where, oh where, do you think I need to see my perfect wife in heavy labor?” Carter's smirk turned devious. “I have a feeling, that your water might break soon…” He leaned in, kissing her, the heat of her breath making him shudder.

She hummed against his lips, from pleasure but also from the steady heavy weight in her pelvis. “Hmmm…. This house is so big, so many rooms to ‘christen’ with a birth.” She mused as they swayed, her fingers interlaced behind his neck, her body pressed against his as much as the belly would allow. 

Out of their four children, their second and third had been born at home. McKenzie was delivered in their bedroom, while Claire arrived a little unexpectedly in the living room. “Well… the bedroom and living room has already seen me pushing, so perhaps let’s try some different lo—locations—oh!” 

A sharp inhale hissed through her teeth, the next contraction coming on quick. Carter seemed just as surprised, perhaps their dancing and swaying had distracted him from the phone and timing the gaps between. Stacey’s knees immediately softened, her body pulling down while her hands gripped together behind his neck. “Unnnghhh…. Ohhhhhh Carter…..” she moaned against his chest, her knees pointing out as she dipped slightly. The bowling ball in her pelvis was pushing down, making her hips feel like they were being deliciously spread, widening for what was to come. 

“Hoooooo— the pressure— so strong—already—” her staccato breaths punching each word. The urge to push was insatiable, tempting, desperate, but she panted through it. Inhaling her husband’s cologne she pressed her face against his torso, clinging onto him to keep herself from being dragged under with the urges to bear down. 

“It’s different, isn’t it?” He asked. She didn’t answer, whether it was by choice or an inability to do so, he wasn’t sure. “No days of practice contractions, no slow build, just deep, intense cramps.” On cue, he felt even more of Stacey’s weight be placed on his neck. He let her, even allowing his own knees to bend ever so slightly as she tried to find the nonexistent comfortable position. “You’re doing amazing Stacey.” 

When it finally ended, Carter altered his grip on her. He stood by her side, one hand around her waist while the other dug out her phone. 

“C’mon, upsie daisy.” They walked, or in her case, waddled, towards the stairs. Just from the look in his wife’s eyes, Carter could see the regret. These stairs were the bane of her existence throughout all of her pregnancy with Caleb. More than once, he had made a makeshift bed on the couch for them both so that she didn’t have to climb. He was about to ask if the guest bedroom was preferable, but she looked so determined. That alone fueled Carter's next choice. His thumb tapped a series of buttons within the app.

URGE TO PUSH: maximum

DELAY: fifteen seconds

“What are you doing there?” Stacey questioned.

He shook off Stacey’s quizzical expression as well as the question. “Nothing. Let’s get you upstairs baby.”

Stacey gripped onto the handrails either side, looking up the Mount Olympus sized stair case, and groaned. “Stay close please, these stairs, I’m getting flashbacks.” She said over her shoulder, preparing for the journey. 

The Pill was realistic that was for sure; each step up felt arduous and impossible, exactly how she’d felt during those last weeks of her fourth pregnancy.  Each time she lifted a leg she could feel the baby sink into the bowl of her pelvis. It was technically her own doing, Stacey had chosen this ‘baby’s’ size and weight. In truth, she had glorified the heaviness and weight of pregnancy in her desire to re enact, forgetting just how difficult some tasks really were. Like stairs. 

One, two, three, four steps. Carter was close behind, his hands secure and reassuring on her hips. Then it happened. The strongest contraction yet. Stacey didn’t even make a sound, so surprised by the abrupt clamping of her womb. Her muscles were an iron band around her middle squeezing tighter and tighter. Automatically she curled forward, towards the pain, and her hands slipped off the handrails and slapped onto the carpeted steps above. 

“Ohhhhh fuck-!” She growled, lowering to her knees and spreading them wide across the stairs while her fingers clawed at the fibres on the higher step. 

Any semblance of control was completely lost in this moment as the contraction squeezed everything down! There was no riding it out or panting through, the demand of her body was crystal clear - she had to push and she had to push now! Carter’s hands were holding her hips as she gave a deep and primal push, sinking back ever so slightly towards his face, instinct taking over. The pressure was dizzying, unstoppable, and she moaned with a little hint of joy at each involuntary surge of her body. She was pushing, half-way up the stairs, it was ridiculous but fucking amazing. 

“Good girl.” He cooed. Carter allowed his hands to linger on her hips, giving her soothing pressure against the intense downward need of the ‘baby’. “That’s it, Stace, give in.” The view was stellar, one that no matter how many years they were together, he wouldn’t tire of. Carter climbed a step, gaining just enough height to allow his lips to plant a kiss at the base of her spine. The image of his wife pushing was far more arousing than he recalled, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching around, taking hold of her gravid body in his palms. 

“This dress is too loose on you.” He said matter of factly. “How can we tell how much progress you’re making when there’s so much fabric in the way?” 

She couldn’t answer, the contraction was still at its peak, and wouldn’t fall for at least another minute. With a grin, he started to lift her dress. Stacey remained mostly covered, but his fingers found her bare flesh. Knuckles brushed against her inner thigh as he kept whispering sweet nothings, all the while her thighs quivered from the combination of his touch and the laborious task of pushing. The phone in his pocket buzzed, and he knew the contraction just hit its most intense point. With that in mind, he let his hand creep higher.

“Can you describe it?” 

Stacey opened her mouth to speak but only a lowing grunt escaped. It was as essential as breathing - the act of pushing - completely and utterly unstoppable. She marvelled at its strength, at her loss of control, the way her limbs and muscles worked in sync without any instruction from her mind. 

In the tiny gaps between pushes, she inhaled, gasping, and managed to say “…pressure...low… nnnghhh…full…” Attempting to find the words to explain to her husband what exactly she was feeling. 

Carter’s hands were soft and delicate between her trembling thighs, but it was too gentle against the raging storm of the contraction and the pressure moving through her body. “Push….” She gasped a request, but Carter misunderstood. 

“Yes darling, you are pushing, pushing so beautifully for me.” He purred over her shoulder. 

“No— ughhhhh— push against me—p-please— h-hold me—nnnnnnghhh!!!!! Can’t stop—” Stacey panted, rocking her hips forward and back with each surging push. She was desperate for counter pressure, for stability, kneeling wide and fragile half way up the stairs. She needed something sturdy against her body while she fruitlessly pushed. 

Carter rose, adjusting his position so that Stacey’s body would press against him whenever she leaned back. It wasn’t much, but he knew the exact pressure she was describing. He waited a moment, letting her rock forward and back twice before shifting his weight to meet her. Stacey backed into him, a gasp escaping her. The sound made it seem like she was surprised by the sudden intervention, even though she’d been asking him for it. Carter knew better, it was a sudden exhale of relief as her body finally had the much needed counter to her primal need.

“Only a little longer now.” He told her, leaning even harder against her hips. “Contractions coming to a close, unless I make it longer… of course.” Carter couldn’t help it, in all their fantasies they’d spoken of after Caleb was born, the idea of roleplay was at the forefront. Some darker and more taboo, while others were simply just fun. “Would you like that?” He asked her, running his fingertips across her back as a makeshift massage. “Need that pressure to last all night long?”

“Ohhhhhhh…. Yes…. No…. Dunno…. Oh god-!” Stacey breathed heavily, each word in sync with the gentle rocking motion and uncontrollable pushes. 

The feel of Carter’s body against her, providing blissful counterpressure in the depths of her spine and hips, was the only thing Stacey could cling to through the peak of this contraction. Keeping her from spiralling into a pointless round of guttural pushes. The pressure in her pelvis stayed strong and exactly in the same spot - no moving down, no peaks and troughs, not an inch of progress made even with her involuntary pushing. 

Mercifully the contraction began to ebb away. The contraction Carter had chosen, specifically selected, had added the overwhelming urge to push. She knew this from the smile in his voice, the way he purred over her shoulder, and the feeling of his arousal pressing against her back. 

“E-enjoyed that, did y-you-?” Stacey asked as she tried to recover, still kneeling half way up the stairs. 

“Almost as much as you did Stace…” Carter answered. “Don’t even try to deny how much you loved that.”

“As fun… oooooh… as that was, if the pressure stays like that all night, no breaks, well…. I’m not sure I’m moving from this spot til baby comes.” 

Carters fingers lazily played through her hair, lifting it off of her neck to give Stacey a much needed cooling off. He wanted her to cool down, because from here, this night would only get hotter. A single finger traced down her spine, taking a certain level of pleasure at her reaction. His hips felt her press against him, her spine arching ever so slightly. This would be a perfect moment for another contraction. He thought to himself. But, he would be nice. For a few more minutes at least.

“You aren’t staying here.” He said, firmly. Giving birth on the stairs wasn’t going to happen, because these stairs won’t give her what is needed to truly start labor. “Now stand up, and waddle that beautiful body to our bathroom.” Carter lifted her, taking control of the situation. Each step took almost a minute, and he had to resist causing more contractions in the process. Sweet nothings continued to be whispered into her ear as she made progress. 

“That’s my girl. Almost there.”

Stacey couldn’t help the huffing and puffing as they went up the stairs, her hands gripped on the rails even though her husband was holding her hips securely. Eventually they made it to the top and immediately she leaned against the wall, hands cupping beneath her belly, catching her breath back. 

“R-remind me next time…. to better plan for heavy babies… and avoid stairs.” Stacey smiled through her accentuated exhales. She knew the next contraction would be coming soon, whatever break Carter had pre-set the intervals to would surely be coming to an end. Her body felt hot already, sweat dampening the back of her neck, as if she’d been labouring for hours and hours. The thrumming ache in the base of her spine coupled with her overheating reminded her of something she enjoyed with the labour for each of their children. 

“Shower… I think I wanna get under the jets to help make these contractions a little less intense.” She said, pushing off the wall and waddling down the hallway towards their bedroom. The married couple had a large master bedroom complete with an en-suite that had a double occupancy waterfall shower head. And it was calling her name right now. 

While she walked heavily through the house Stacey pulled at her dress. Her skin was too sensitive, too warm, and she was desperate to free her gravid body from the confines of the summer dress. She managed to pull the hem up above her bump but the fabric was tight at her waist and chest and the zip was behind her. She couldn’t reach, not with one hand continually cradling her swollen womb. 

He was one step behind her the whole way. The sight was endearing as much as it was arousing to Carter. Throughout Stacey’s second, third, and fourth pregnancies, Carter kept himself next to or behind her. With their first baby he’d made the mistake of walking away and leaving her behind due to her waddling slowing her pace. She’d forgiven him of course, after he bribed her with ice cream and a foot massage.

The phone found its way into his palm, while his other hand reached out for her. Stacey’s dress was beginning to darken as a sheen of sweat soaked into the fabric. With the zipper pinched between his index and thumb, he leaned in close to her ear.

“A shower sounds perfect baby.” He told her, pulling the zipper down. Without the belly, the dress would have fallen to the floor with ease then and there. Instead, it crumpled, using the top of Stacey’s swell as a makeshift shelf. The image made him smile. “How about you lean on the bed? I’ll get the shower going for you.” Three quick taps of his thumb adjusted the settings for the next contraction.

Urge to Push

90% Intensity

45 second delay

“I’ll get you out of your dress first though.” He said as he confirmed the settings. Carter pulled the fabric up over her head, tossing the dress over into their laundry hamper. The phone went back to his pocket to free up his hands for some attention to her body. Smooth skin against his fingers, he leant to kiss her again. “Don’t have a baby while I’m gone.” He told her with a smirk, and walked away to turn on the shower.

“You’re the one in control here, not me…” Stacey muttered back with a returning grin. 

She planted her hands deep into the mattress, leaning forward to let her belly hang and take the weight off her pelvis. The bump was tight and low, her popped belly button pointing towards the floor as she moved her hips in large pendulous circles. The Pill was immensely realistic, she felt so swollen and feminine and gravid, something she only felt right at the tail end of pregnancy. But now, since their fourth child’s unexpectedly erotic birth, now she could really enjoy it and indulge in the sensations. 

Stacey hummed and rocked. The next contraction was surely on its way if the way Carter had looked at her was anything to go by. She daren’t take her hands off the bed, knowing by now just how quickly they came on. 

Her instincts were proved right not even thirty seconds later - her uterus suddenly clenching in on itself and squeezingdown. “Ugggghhhhh…. Oooooooooh….” She tried to breathe her way through the abrupt shift, the fierce tightening, the increased pressure. Her feet moved wider on the carpet, her back curved as she fully braced against the edge of their large bed. Without her dress she was left in just her knickers, her sensitive bosom hanging towards the floor in tandem with her bump which had risen up with the contracting muscles, warping it into an iron boulder. 

But no amount of panting and moaning was going to keep this contraction at bay. Whatever Carter had done on that damn phone was just as bad as the contraction on the stairs and she couldn’t help but bear down. A naturally low sound emanated from the depths of her chest, knees bending as her body pushed. She gave a long and primal push right into her bottom, nature and instinct guiding every hitch of her breath and squeezing of muscles. But unlike real labour, this push didn’t do anything. It didn’t relieve the pressure, it didn’t satisfy, it wasn’t “productive”. The baby remained right where it was, meaning the heavy boulder in her pelvis stayed in the same deliciously torturous position. 

From the door to the bathroom, Carter gazed at her with poorly hidden lust. The angles were simply all perfect, the dim light peeking though the fabric of the curtains making her appear almost as an art piece. Her back was arched just right, her hips pushed back as if such a motion would ease the pressure. A part of him wanted to mess with the phone again, to make her be like this for hours. But, he refrained. He’d already done far too much to alter the already pre-set labor. All he needed right now was to spectate, and enjoy. 

The contractions peak must’ve come on, because the shadow that fell across the floor towards him altered. Her knees bent, her gravid swell shrinking away from the carpet. That image alone was enough for him to grow aroused. Carter let her suffer alone for just a few moments longer, relishing that what happened next would cause everything to change.

“That’s it.” He purred. It hadn’t taken long to get the shower to temp, already steam was collecting on the glass surfaces closest to the bathroom door. “Sorry baby I couldn’t resist one more surprise contraction, just to set the mood.” Carter had stripped, a sensation his wife no doubt felt when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, leaning over to cradle her womb. Slowly, he helped her to rise, his interlaced fingers taking most of the weight from the baby off of her back.

“Mmmhm… you’re not sorry…” Stacey quipped, breathless from the contraction, but smiling. “You just like watching me trying not to push.” 

They waddled together, the distance from the bed to the bathroom a practical marathon for a woman in the middle of labor. Carter knew how to distract her though. Without the phone he could change no settings, not that he desired to. His desire was for her, and he knew that she was already well aware. They halted at the entrance to the shower, the steam and stone giving it some sort of mystical ambiance. Gingerly, Carter let the weight of the artificial baby rest at its natural position, his hands tracing from bump, to navel, to breasts, and then retreating to her back.

“Hold the wall for a moment love.” He commanded, though his voice remained as endearing as always, simply with seduction added in. Lips pressed to the back of her neck, finding new territory the further down he crouched. As he kissed her body, his thumbs hooked her knickers, pulling them down as well until they fell to the floor. He planted one last kiss to the base of her spine, then rose, fingers trailing along flesh the whole way. “Perfect.” Was all he could say.

Despite the warm temperature in their en-suite, Stacey shivered. Her husband’s feather-like touch on her swollen and sensitive skin prompted a physical shudder of arousal. Her hands gripped the glass doorframe of the shower as she lifted each foot in turn, stepping a little ungainly out from her underwear leaving the small heap of lace and cotton on the tiled floor. 

Stacey pressed on, stepping further into the large stone-tiled shower, knowing Carter would follow. Her wonderful husband would follow her anywhere, to the ends of the earth and back again, and with this rounded belly attached to her hips she knew he wasn’t going to be separated an inch from his beautiful wife. As the hot water fell from the ceiling onto her aching pregnant body, Stacey couldn’t help accentuating the moan of blissful relief - her muscles relaxing under the glorious heat. 

“Ooooh…yes…. Oh that’s nice..” Stacey hummed, swaying a little to get every inch of her body beneath the hot waterfall. Her hands had found their way to her bump, cradling it subconsciously - protectively, but also lifting it as she circled her hips. She was the epitome of motherhood in this moment, heavy and swollen and full of - albeit artificial - life. 

“Yes, it is isn’t it?” Eyes never left her body, mapping out every little detail as if his intimate knowledge of her wasn’t retainable. “It’s perfect.”

Carter stayed right behind her, first enjoying her body but then examining her as he always did when she was pregnant. In the shower he had the habit of watching her, making certain that she was ok. It was her joy that stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t need to worry, because the woman before him was the perfect person for him. He pulled her close, his desire pressing against her lower back as his arms hugged her to his chest.

“I don’t want this night to end.” He admitted, his voice a whisper. “I never want it to.” Hands found her gravid womb, and with delicate precision, he traced her faded stretch marks, the evidence of four separate children giving Stacey the badge they both loved, that of a mother. “Remember how we helped Caleb come along?” As the question came, so too did his fingers reach lower, finding that sweet spot between her thighs. “Think that will help here?” Carter rolled onto his toes, brushing her spine.

“Almost certainly.” She hummed, tilting her head skywards so it rested against her husband’s shoulder. If the placement of his hands weren’t enough of a giveaway, the feel of his arousal pressing against her back certainly gave the game away. Stacey arched her spine, the full sphere of her belly jutting forward while her hips went back, ass pressing against him in return. 

“I think you’ll find this… ohhh… this method wasn’t to help Caleb come along and more to try and stop his ill-timed descent.” 

“That's true.” He said, swaying with her, his hands never leaving her body. “You were so sexy trying to hold back from pushing, and when you pushed into my palm...” Carter kissed her again. “Maybe we can try to hold this one in too? After we make sure they start coming out.”

Stacey continued to sway beneath the rainfall of warm water from above, enjoying the feel of the jets on her swollen body coupled with the supporting embrace of her husband. His one hand stayed wrapped around her hips, lightly pressing between her thighs, while the other free hand roamed across her skin - over her giant bump and then cupping her full heavy breasts. When he pinched her nipple she gasped, shuddering with pleasure but wobbling slightly unsteadily. 

Carter’s hands were quick to respond, holding her close against his body, keeping her steady. “Careful honey, you’re carrying precious cargo.” His hand moved naturally and possessively over her belly, even though it wasn’t a real baby the instincts remained the same for both of them. 

The feel of his touch on her sensitive skin sent waves pulsing through her veins. Stacey’s thighs clenched, trapping his hand between them, craving more friction and more pressure. She sighed, long and lyrical, her head tilted under the water and against Carter’s shoulder. With her neck exposed he began to kiss just below her ear, delicate and slow, the coarse scratching of his stubble against her skin triggering every sensitive nerve in her body. “Ohhhh… Carter….” Stacey moaned, feeling every hard inch of her aroused husband pressing against her cheeks. 

His stubble shifted against her skin as he smiled. Hand trapped between her thighs, he was only encouraged to try harder. His middle and ring finger began to shift, playing with her lips. Carter felt her body shudder against his.

“Stace…”

He retracted his hand from her legs, savoring the whimper of disappointment. He found her hand, gently taking hold of it as he guided her towards the tiled wall of the shower. Kisses continued to pepper her neck and jawline before nibbling on her ear. As soon as both her hands were placed against the wall, his hands found her hips. Thumbs applied pressure to her lower back, a silent encouragement to lean forwards. Water rolled down her back, flowing like a river along the line of her spine all the way down to her ass. Carter took position, guiding himself in with intentional slowness. Her folds accepted him, and Carter was forced to take a sharp inhale as their second intimate entanglement in as many hours began.

The fullness brought a gravelled moan from her throat. Stacey leant forward, pressing her hands against the cool tile as she adjusted to her husband’s size. Thank fuck he had moved slowly, her already sensitive body might have blacked out with a harsh intrusion. But Carter was gentle, delicate, deliberate, but it was with intentional torturous lust behind it. He knew exactly how to make her squirm and shudder, and he knew how amplified the pregnancy would make things. 

Stacey hummed with pleasure as he moved, a slow pull back and gentle trust forward, as if testing the waters. She bent further forward, lowering her belly and spine just a fraction, seeking more of Carter’s appendage. “Hmmmm… d-deeper… ohhh go deeper please darling….” She almost whined. 

With a husky growl and nibble of her neck, Carter’s hands gripped her hips more forcefully before thrusting forward. The sound of their skin slapping was muted by the rumbling of the shower jets. 

It was at that moment they were rewarded with the next contraction and Stacey all but cried out. “Ooouuhhhh…. Fuck….” Her hands clawed at the slippery tiles as her belly tightened abruptly, muscles squeezing and lifting her heavy bump up, trapped by the iron band wrapping her middle. Every part of her body seemed to clench and press down, trying fruitlessly to aid a labour that wasn’t controlled by nature but by the phone left in their bedroom. 

Carter grinned, he was about to joke with her to ‘watch her language’, that ‘they were about to be parents and couldn’t say that in front of the kids’. The thought was seized when he saw her knuckles turn white as she tried desperately to grip the wall, to grab something, anything. Carter, both to torture himself a little but also to give her some extra pleasure, slowed his pace even further. 

“Contraction?” He asked, tucking her soaked hair behind her ear. He heard her try to say something, but it was interrupted by a grunt of effort. Her body was squeezing him, and even though he wanted to slow, it felt as if her body was calling to him, challenging him to keep going. Skin hit skin, and Carter grunted as the friction between their bodies increased. “Pushing, mmm, won’t help.” He said, taking a handful of her breast and giving it a squeeze. His voice dropped low, becoming more of a growl than a whisper. “But dammit I love when you push for me baby…”

Stacey’s palm lifted and slapped against the tile, pressing through her elbows and shoving her hips back to meet Carter’s pelvis. His groping, his primal sounds, the feel of him so deep it made her see stars. And then he mentioned pushing and she was completely lost to her body’s urges. “Mmhhhaaa… ohhhhh…. Can’t… can’t stop… p-pushing…..” She panted. 

The contraction, like all the others, was intense and powerful. Her legs were trembling and the weight in her pelvis was outrageously low. They’d been playing with The Pill not even two hours and she already felt simultaneously on edge of climax and on the cusp of birthing this pretend baby. With a shuddering gasp Stacey bore down on his instructions. It was instinctual, yes, but she was also very aware of how each push seemed to bring Carter closer to release. His hands palmed and squeezed and pinched her breasts while he plunged deep into her wide hips, drawing husky grunts of uncontrollable pushes from Stacey. 

Carter didn’t say anything, his mind and body too immersed in the moment to form anything intelligible. This was the sexiest Stacey had ever been. She was gorgeous and beautiful, but this moment, pushing as he was rapidly thrusting into her, this was the most intense any of their exploits had been. To think the drive-thru could be topped…

The warmth in his pelvis grew, the sign of his impending climax. There was no way to get closer to Stacey, and he hated it. Nothing was between them. Yet the need to be even more intimate and close frustrated him. A hand left her breast, finding the side of her womb. Hard as rock. He knew it looked larger now because she was letting it hang as she bent over, the weight of her womb trying to reach the floor without her. But damn if he wouldn’t let that visual of her body fighting to expel the fake baby build in his mind. 

His hot breath hit her neck, audible moans coming with them to match her own. The thrusts became frantic, primal need overtaking the kink driven intercourse. He found resistance, and even with his mind clouded, Carter knew exactly what it was. Not solid, but tough, with something concealed behind it. Knowing that each thrust against its unbreakable surface was too much to bear. A singular twitch, that was the only prelude they had. Carter buried his face in the crook of her neck, simultaneously squeezing her breast and digging his fingers into the side of her womb. 

Stacey cried out, her knees shaking beneath them as that climax Carter knew she’d been staving off bloomed into an explosion of pleasure and release. As he kept the expulsion of his own desires pumping into her, he felt her hand grab his, pulling his hips closer. Every time, she did that, not wanting anything to go to waste. Both of their simultaneous orgasms rang out for a moment long, then it all changed. She clamped down on him, and he felt an onrush of something hitting him before exiting her, momentarily covering his hips before the shower washed it all away. Her moaning had grown more intense somehow, and for the moment, he was the only one who knew why.

At first Stacey assumed the change, that feeling of release, was from the exceptional pregnant sex and orgasm. But her uterus was still contracting hard and she could barely breathe. The pressure had dropped so low it felt like the baby had fallen all the way to the kitchen downstairs. But Carter was still inside her body, still pulsing with post-love-making bliss, so she knew the baby couldn’t be that low. And yet— 

“Unnnghhhh…. I have… I have to p-push….” She cried out in a slight frenzy. 

The primal sensations overtook any cohesive thought. Normally the experienced mother would recognise the signs of her water breaking, especially considering the torrent that ejected onto her husband’s groin, but this was no ordinary pregnancy. And this was going to be no ordinary birth. 

With Carter still holding her tight, still buried inside, she gave a guttural push right down into her pelvis. Alongside the grunt of effort her fingertips squeaked down the tiled wall of the shower as her knees softened with the push. It didn’t matter that they were in the shower, that their bodies were still connected and intertwined, all she knew was she had to push and she had to push now. 

He felt it. Carter's arms felt her body contracting in his hold, but that wasn’t the exhilarating sensation that he was wide eyed at experiencing. He felt it. The phone was in the other room, so there was no way to tell for certain aside from their four previous births. Stacey’s dilation must’ve progressed instantaneously, or was already at its widest when her waters had broken on him. 

“Good girl.” He told her, his voice still strained from his recent climax. “That’s it, you can push.”

The pressure was intense, her body clamping down even as he was returning to his natural limp state. It was almost enough to reinvigorate him for round three, almost. He felt her lower slightly, and almost instinctively he took hold of her hips, still in position but keeping her steady. He had an adversary within her, forcing him out as she pushed. Fuck. He wasn’t ever going to be able to get this one out of his head. Carter decided it was best to remain right where he was, at least for the moment. Stacey, apparently, didn’t realize that her own orgasm had been the straw that broke the camel's back as it were. Her pushes were no longer pointless, they were purposeful, and progressive.

While the contraction held her hostage, Stacey could only gasp and push, gasp and push, over and over. Autonomy was long gone and all her focus and efforts were diverted to this one cause. With every grunting push their bodies inched lower in the shower, an unconscious slow motion to get her pelvis wider and more open by squatting slightly. She was working entirely at the hands of primal instincts - no thoughts or plans or intentions. 

Her whole body trembled with a roaring push, the action egged on by the purring encouragement of her husband, and then eventually the contraction ebbed away. Her breathing was heavy and rapid, control gradually returning, and god did her knees ache. 

“Hooooo… hooo oh my… that one was the most….intense…yet…” she puffed out, palms still cemented on the tile, still unaware of the specific sequence of events chosen by her husband. Her knees promptly checked out, buckling with exhaustion post-orgasm and post-pushing. Somehow she got down onto all fours and she immediately felt the loss of her husband slipping out from between her legs. 

Carter dropped with her, protectively holding her on instinct. The way she’d gotten downward was too fast, and he was afraid for a moment that she’d possibly blacked out. Her back was still arched though, and even now she panted through the pain and discomfort.

“It sure felt intense.” Carter said, adjusting his positioning so that he was beside her. “I think that might be the end of sex for now.” A smile split his face, growing broader when Stacey gave him a questioning look. He read her like a book, it was saying ‘What aren’t you telling me?’ Carter kept the little nugget of truth to himself for now, after all, maybe she’d assume the settings were altered when he’d gone to start the shower, or just not realize that progress was possible. Either way, Carter wouldn’t tell her until the very last moment.

“Here…” He said, placing the heel of his hand in her lower back. He pressed down firmly, making little circles as he did so. “How’s that feel?”

“Mmmhh… good… helps…” Stacey hummed, rocking slightly on hands and knees to adjust to the new weight that had settled deeper in her hips. 

The shit-eating grin on her husband’s face told Stacey that he had planned something, or at least knew something. What that was - well, she would have to find out. She knew giving him full access to the damn app would make him feral, only time would tell if she’d let him have control again next time or not. 

Even without a contraction Stacey’s words sounded breathy and moany. Any pressure she’d felt with each wave no longer disappeared - remaining heavy and unrefutable. “Oooof— god Carter this baby feels low already. For a second there, I thought it was going to deliver right here in the shower.” 

“Well that is an option.” He said with a one shouldered shrug. “But I was thinking we should go back downstairs”

The look on Stacey’s face made his grin only grow wider. He relished the prospect of watching her try to waddle downstairs while in active labor, especially seeing as he had yet to look this far into the app to see how the birth was meant to play out. His only alterations had been triggering her water to break and the extra contractions, as far as progress, he was now as in the dark as his wife was.

“Tell you what, love.” He said, rubbing a bit harder again against her back. “After the next contraction, we could try on some of your old clothes. I know a certain pair of leggings we both have fond memories of…”

Stacey laughed. Those leggings were a big part of the success of their fourth birth, managing to hold back from delivering the head as long as she did. Those leggings were also long thrown away. 

“I chucked them out, remember, they were ruined after Caleb’s birth.” Stacey said heavily, managing to recover a bit more to lift her head and sit back on her heels. “But I like where you’re going with this. I do have some non-maternity leggings we can use. It won’t go over this bump, but they’ll certainly be tight.” 

Carter helped Stacey off the shower floor, switching off the waterfall jets before wrapping her in a towel. It barely went around her circumference - the belly poking out the middle. Waddling back into their bedroom, both stark naked, Stacey made her way to the dresser to get the specific outfit she was thinking of. The next contraction happened while she was hunting through the drawers and she had to elbow the surface of the dresser and moan her way through it. The urge to push happened every-damn-time now, the baby felt like it was right in the bowl of her pelvis. Carter stood loyally behind her, pressing hard against her hips and encouraging her not to push. His words were gravelled and so sexy, and combined with the pressure she felt it was hard to stay focused. 

Eventually, and with only two contractions in the middle, they both got dressed. Stacey wore her regular black leggings and a long black and white striped tshirt. Carter meanwhile opted for a pair of athletic shorts and a long sleeve blue shirt with grey sleeves, his typical attire for being around the family all day. Huffing from the effort of getting dressed, Stacey automatically cradled her belly as she turned around on the spot - almost asking for her husband’s approval in her choice. 

“Come here often sexy?” He asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he cocked an eyebrow. A full intake of her outfit didn’t trigger lust as it had with the dress. It was endearing on a level he couldn’t explain, seeing the love of his life dressed so casually with a life growing inside.

“I know where I want to go next….” Stacey purred, slowly stepping in her husband’s direction until her rounded orb of a belly pressed against his torso. She lifted on her tiptoes, holding his shoulders to keep balance, and leaning towards his ear she whispered “Your office, downstairs.” 

“Oh?” He questioned, hands instinctively falling to hold her swollen stomach. “All the way down…” As he spoke, Carter slowly turned with her, the couple making a tiny circle. A waltz of two lovers. “That’s a long way Stace, and I don’t know how patient our baby will be.” His fingers found the edge of her shirt and lifted till he felt the warm flesh. She was still slightly damp from the shower, and he knew they’d both relish when she got soaked to the bone with sweat from the labor.

As if his thoughts had triggered it, the third contraction since they left the bathroom hit her. He knew before her face even changed, the muscles in her abdomen tightened beneath his palms a fraction of a second before her jaw quivered. Before him his wife quivered, no doubt feeling that urge to push again. She still didn’t know, did she? He leant in, already noticing how more of her weight was on his neck. She was trying to squat again wasn’t she?

“Hold back hon.” He told her, thumbs rubbing the rock solid sphere of flesh between them. “It’s not time to push yet.”

Her hands gripped the back of his shirt, bunching the blue fabric in her fists as she panted rapidly. Without thought, her stance was wide as she clung to her husband through the raging contraction, trying to withstand the pressure between her hips. 

“Mmmmghh… but… I want to push darling…. Ohhhhh god I wanna push….” Stacey practically whimpered, hips rocking and swaying around the iron boulder pressing down, barely managing to hold back. 

By the skin of her teeth Stacey made it through the contraction without pushing, at least, not consciously pushing. But as she moved again it was hard to ignore how much lower the baby felt. “Carter… I’m not sure if this is… right…. Baby feels so low?” 

“I know darling, but it’s not time.” He told her, bringing a hand up to twirl her hair between his fingers. “It’s just the urge, the labor is not moving along just yet. The app even says so, we have time before the baby comes. Let’s enjoy it.”  

Despite the reassurance, Stacey felt on edge, as she did with each birth just before things got serious. As if her body was on the precipice of something monumental. She might not have the app, or know what was coming, but she was certain of one thing - she didn’t want to deliver in the bedroom or the living room. Two of their children had been born in this house and she wanted to explore more unconventional locations with this simulation. So she waddled out the door of their bedroom, down the hallway, in an attempt to get down the stairs before the next contraction happened. But if she had been timing them, she would have known the mission was bound to fail. 

Carter remained two steps behind her, already anticipating the inevitable. He wasn’t dumb enough to try and stop her when she was so determined. But, he was smart enough to know that there was no chance of her descending the stairs without issue. Eyes examining her every move, Carter watched as Stacey tried to go down. Pregnancy affected her balance horribly, and while normally she was able to adapt over months, this short gestation seemed to still be troubling her. She’d started to step, paused, seemed to reassess, then turned to the side to go down one step at a time.

The tedious method reminded him all too well of when she was pregnant with their first. Constantly having to adapt to her own changing body was a skill that never ceased to amaze. Stacey managed four steps, and froze. White knuckled, her chest heaved, her stomach shrinking to show the outline of her womb. Mere moments before her knees buckled, Carter had looped his arms beneath hers, holding her upright.

“Breathe.” He told her. “Just a contraction like all the ones before. Nothing to it, and no pushing needed…”

Automatically her eyes closed with the sudden clamp of her womb and while her fingers gripped the rail Stacey was grateful for Carter’s swift reaction. This so easily could have ended badly, so easily could have fallen, but her husband - as always - kept her steady and safe. A groan came bubbling up her throat while her muscles clamped down, her knees widening and softening part-way down the stairs. 

“Hooooo—hoooooooo— Car—Carter—” Stacey moaned, her mouth hanging open to pant through the pressure. 

His soft soothing words in her ear did nothing to alleviate the desperate weight in her hips determined to sink lower. She grunted, unplanned and uncontrolled, her body bearing down with the contraction unconsciously. She only realised when she felt the fruits of her labour and an increase of pressure against her cervix. 

“I… ohhhhhh… I think it’s coming…? I’m…. I’m pushing….?” Stacey panicked slightly, caught entirely off guard with how forcefully her body was acting of its own accord. While they were stuck on the stairs. 

“Hey hey, it’s ok.” His reassurance came with a kiss on her cheek. Stacey was trying to squat, whether intentionally or not he was unsure. What mattered was keeping her up, and keeping the baby in. “Baby isn’t coming, the app is saying as much.” A lie, but one that was going to feed into both of their fantasies. To give his wife even more comfort that it was fine, another small lie came. “Your water hasn’t even broken, it has to before the baby will make progress.”

A slight nod was her only answer. Carter waited, holding her until it appeared the worst of the contraction had passed. The weight in his arms lessened, and he spotted her knuckles regaining color. She had absolutely been pushing, but a little fib to make her doubt whether it was true wouldn’t hurt. This pill was safe, and with it they didn’t need to worry about possible dangers. They moved, taking one step at a time. Stacey didn’t push him away, her independence taking a momentary backseat to make sure he was near enough in case another contraction came. Thankfully, they made it all the way down.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” Carter asked, that shit eating grin he knew she loved plastered all over his face.

Stacey paused to glare at her husband, lips pressed in a thin pout. But the sparkle behind her eyes, the slight curve at the very edges of her lips, confirmed the underlying playfulness of the moment. She released a long and heavy exhale before responding. 

“T-they’re getting harder and harder to ride out.” Stacey mused while rubbing her belly over the striped cotton jersey of her tshirt, still keeping a hand out just in case she needed to grab onto something. “I can’t even speak through them anymore. If this was a real pregnancy I’d say we were long overdue calling for the midwife. It’s all so intensely realistic babe, the pressure, the urges.” She couldn’t help soften the last word, a breathy husky tone that she knew would affect her husband. 

His body betrayed him, a shudder rippling through him. It disappears as fast as it came, but even in that short span, Stacey had absolutely noticed. Maybe there was time for more fun…

They had to ride out another contraction at the bottom of the stairs before they could move to Carter’s home office. Her husband seemed to foresee the weakening of her knees and had wrapped his arms around her upper back and entwined his fingers together over her spine. When Stacey moaned and panted her way through the contraction, when her knees started to buckle, his strong arms held her close and she was almost hanging off his broad frame. The instinctual need to lower her stance and spread her legs wide was something so primal she barely noticed, but Carter certainly had. He took extra care after the contraction had ended to make sure her stance returned to a much narrower position. And god it made it feel so full. 

“As much as I love your waddle, you don’t need to be so wide.” He told her. “Not till I let you know it’s time to push.” 

Stacey’s eyes fluttered, almost rolling, and she held on to his shoulders for a second while she adjusted to the heavy bowling ball sitting oh so low in her pelvis. 

The office was in the corner of the house, opposite the kitchen. He tried to spend as little time there as possible when the kids were home, preferring time with the family. But, as it was, work did sometimes find its way home with him. Today the office wasn’t for work though, it was simply for pleasure. Walking backwards so that he could continue his support of Stacey, Carter pushed against the doors to open them. Double doors with glass panels led into the room. The walls were painted white, a row of books on shelves against the back wall with his desk sitting in the center. That was the goal.

“I think this is the perfect place.” He whispered to her. The couple made it to the desk, and simply from the counting in his head and the way Stacey’s body was trembling, he knew the next contraction was near. Mischief in mind, he pulled out the phone as she leaned on the desk, her rear towards him. Sure enough, another ten seconds, and she’d contract. He sat her phone down, screen up, and took hold of her hips. Carter leant in, timing his words perfectly. “You can’t push…”

With her head hanging between her shoulders, Stacey began to pant, faster and faster as the contraction took hold. Beneath her clothing the glorious orb of her belly had lifted and distorted, turning to stone and squeezing everything down. She whimpered, rocking her hips and moving her feet wider on the carpet. 

“Oooohh—ohhhhh— ughhhh!!!” The groan that slipped from her mouth was gravelled and breathy. She could feel sweat start to dampen the back of her shirt as she tried to hold off against the barreling urge to bear down. 

“P-Press—back— h-hard—” she managed to huff out in staccato breaths. She needed something - anything - to counter the overwhelming pressure between her legs. If she couldn’t push yet, the last resort was the firm weight of her husband to stop this contraction from taking over. 

He said her waters hadn’t broken, that the simulated baby wasn’t ready to be born yet - but fucking hell she wanted to push. She wanted to push so fiercely that it was starting to overwhelm all thoughts. Until Carter’s hands pressed hard into the backs of her hips, his breath caressing her neck from behind. And then she remembered the pleasure, the game they were playing. 

“That’s my girl…” He purred. Hips pressed against hers, he continued the deep massage in her lower back muscles. “Breathe, but don’t push.” Her legs were trying to spread again, and he could only imagine the pressure and need she had to do so. But it wasn’t time, they could have so much more fun before he let the path from her womb open up. With relative ease he put his feet on either side of hers. The action must have been noticed, because less than a second later her legs were trying to claim any open space they could. Carter remained firm in his position.

There were little noises, sounds so familiar to him that they may as well have been projected over a megaphone. Even though she tried not to, Carter knew she’d just given in. It was barely anything, but that little failed effort made a part of his brain click, a role to play, one that he’d put into action immediately.

The game was growing intimate again it seemed. Perhaps unintentionally, Stacey’s hips rocking led to Carter's body reacting naturally. It could be easily said though, that Stacey rarely had to do much to get Carter excited. Stacey took in a gulp of air, and Carter rightly assumed the contraction was gone. Gentle hands took her, and spun her around to face him. Red faced, sweaty, and exhausted, yet the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

“You pushed.” He admonished. “I don’t remember saying it was time…” Carter looked her in the eyes, unblinking and focused. “I think I need to keep an eye on you, and check, to see if you moved things… too fast.”

“What… no, I didn’t push… I don’t… I don’t think I pushed?” She breathed heavily, her full chest rising and falling as she attempted to recover from the contraction. The waves were so close together it felt like she was continually huffing and puffing, sweating and waddling, it was exactly as she’d hoped. 

At her husband’s feigned sternness, Stacey pushed her bottom lip forward, a little pout. “I didn’t push.” This time more definitively, a little defiantly. 

With the desk now behind her, Stacey shifted slightly back, planting her ass on the very edge of the wooden furniture to keep herself upright. Her hands moved in large circles around the full sphere of her belly that stretched the jersey knit of her long top, and accentuating her breathing through soft pursed lips. 

“Baby is so low and heavy… they feel like they’re close…” she cooed softly, watching her husband entranced by the sight of her gravid form. “How are you going to check my progress, with these tight leggings on?” 

He blinked, momentarily taken out of the role he’d been trying to become. Stacey was just too damn sexy when she was like this. Her curves were begging to be exposed, yet for the moment, he knew they both wanted her to stay dressed. Carter stepped closer, hands planting flat on either side of her on the desk. Her belly stopped him getting any closer. Her scent filled his nostrils, and he savored the intoxication it offered. He exhaled, his hot breath breaking against her sweat-damp skin.

“I have my ways.” Carter told her, reimmersing himself. In a flash, he took her thighs, and lifted. Pregnancy added weight, as was natural. But dammit when a man was hungry for his wife he could do anything. Before she knew it, Stacey was fully on the desk, any paperwork that was stacked there was brushed away, and his laptop set far to the side. Carter stared at how her legs were forced apart by her belly, her forward posture making the underside touch the desk.

“Now.” He said, calmly. Carter gingerly pulled up her shirt to expose her stomach. Palm flat on its surface, he spoke again. “I need your legs apart.” As the words came, his hand crept down. “But don’t take that as an opening to push Stace. I told you, it’s, not, time.” He found the elastic band of her leggings, digging beneath them with his fingertips. “Can you promise me that?” Before she had a chance to answer, his lips were on hers, and his hand, found its intended target.

Her moan was swallowed by Carter’s hungry kiss, the growl from the back of her throat disappearing into her husband’s mouth. His lustful gaze, his hot breath, and soft caress had all cumulated into putting every nerve in Stacey’s body on edge. She was trembling beneath his touch, moaning pleasurably against his lips, all the while her legs parted to let his hand explore. 

His digits plunged deeper, and Stacey gasped, her hands rising to grip his shoulders - nails digging slightly into the blue fabric of his shirt. Everything was so sensitive, delicate, thrown into an ocean of arousal at the slightest of movements. The lingering pressure from the latest contraction seemed to be so low she was almost sure Carter would cross paths with that heavy weight. But as his fingers plunged he curled them slightly, his lips grinning against hers, and she cried out at the sweet spot he had reached. 

“Oooooh—my—god…” 

Automatically her thighs parted wider on the desk, simultaneously to allow better access and to alleviate the ache of her hips. Stacey ground her pelvis, trying to meet more friction, to seek more from her husband. But midway through her pleasurable humming a sharp contraction stopped her in her tracks. Every part of her body stiffened, tight, braced for the inevitable peak. Her womb seized, lifting her low belly from the desk where it had been hanging over and between her legs.  Every muscle clamped and squeezed, her breath catching on the painful pressure, made all the more intense with her husband’s hand, so deep, and practically trapped by her contracting body. 

“Ughhhhhhh— ohhh ohhhh-ohhhhhh nnnnghh! I—I’ve gotta push—!” She suddenly cried out. 

Carter let the silent debate in his head roll for a moment before the decision was made.

“Push.” He told her. The single word came with a curl of his fingers within her. She bore down almost immediately. He knew this was the first time she intentionally pushed, and the way her chin dug into her chest was perfect. He allowed her to keep going, only able to imagine the satisfaction she felt giving in to the instinctual needs of her body. He waited, after four kids he knew exactly how she’d shift when the contraction peaked. Stacey’s thighs shook, and he knew it was time.

“Now stop.” He said. “That’s all for this one love.” Carter's eyes were hungry and devious. This moment couldn’t end too fast.

Her eyes flew open, staring hazily up at Carter. “Wh—what?! No!” She gasped. 

The contraction had reached its peak and had only granted her enough time to take a breath - utter her words of dismay - before her muscles squeezed again. She couldn’t stop now! The contraction was still raging, the urge still screaming at her to bear down. 

She did it anyway, not fully taking seriously her husband’s instruction. With her teeth gritted and exposed, she bore down against her husband’s fingers once more. Desperately craving that satisfaction of a deep and productive push. 

Well, that was a mistake on her part. Carter remained silent, letting her savor this push. A quick glance over to the phone would have revealed his intentions if it hadn’t been for Stacey’s current condition taking all her attention. He reached for it. With phone in hand, he looked through the settings. He didn’t need Stacey to tell him the contraction was ending. The grip on his fingers loosened, and now that she’d done the opposite of what he said, it was time to get serious.

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” He told her, slipping his fingers out. His palm remained on her belly, feeling the baby shifting. According to the app, its descent was underway, the head finally starting to exit the cervix. Little dials and scales, as well as a virtual diagram of the baby’s progress filled the screen. A thrill went through him, as his thumb pressed on the dial labeled ‘progress’. “Let’s try that again baby…” Carter, slid the dial, reversing all the progress his wife had just made.

Initially Stacey whimpered, an automatic response assuming another contraction. But the feeling inside of her body was unlike anything she’d experienced; the pressure was receding but the fullness - oh god the fullness. 

“Ohhhhhhh….” She gasped, pressing her hands into the desk and lifting her hips a fraction through the peculiar pulsing inside her womb. It was as if her belly was getting bigger, rounder, and her thighs began to shake. Stacey felt the weighted sphere in her pelvis rise instead of sink - the baby was going— 

“Carter!! What have you done…? Hoooooo…. It’s going back…!” She panted her way through the disturbing reverse of sensations, the sounds coming from her chest were almost whimpers. It felt weird, wrong, and yet the continued stretching of her hip joints meant she still felt deliciously full, so it wasn’t all bad. 

“It told you little pushes Stacey.” He leaned in, putting his face so close that the smallest shift would inevitably lead to another kiss. “That, wasn’t a little push. So I figure, why not have a little punishment for not listening?” Carter was fully immersed into his role, ready to take control in a more dominant way. “It only makes sense darling. If the kids don’t listen they get timeout, if you don’t listen, you gotta start, all, over.” He smiled again, letting that kiss happen he’d been teasing. 

Their lips pressing together didn’t stop him from reading a few things from his wife simply by how she kissed. Over a decade of marriage would let anyone read more into the most subtle of changes in a person's behavior. She’d exhaled, a quick huff that he clocked as annoyance. Carter expected as much, so in response he sat the phone down, bringing his hands to the sensitive underside of her womb. Teeth tugged at her lower lip as he pulled away. She was pouting, and that made him even happier about doing what he did.

“You’re an ass.” She blew out a heavy exhale, slowly settling after the retreating of the “baby” back into her womb. 

“I had to show you I was serious, didn’t I? You’re just lucky that I didn’t have the baby stop halfway out. It is an option you know.” A wolfish grin split his face. “Now, promise to be a good girl for me, and only do little pushes, or maybe the progress will get even slower…” 

“Hmmm…” Stacey’s pout lingered, her eyes glaring playfully at her husband. She was annoyed, yes, the undoing of her pushing progress was bound to have that effect. But the annoyance was only surface level - in truth she was relishing the evening, getting to indulge in all their fantasies. It was clear from her husband’s tone that Carter was really getting into the role, a role so unlike his caring and thoughtful self but one of loving dominance. 

Well if he was going to play a role this evening, then she would too. 

Stacey fluttered her lashes, the pout on her lips turning coy, and she gently let her hands roam and caress the front of his shirt. “I’ll try not to push… I’ll be good.” She purred. Usually fiercely independent, Stacey played up the submissive role with sparkling eyes and flushed cheeks. “It’s just… when the baby gets that low, it is hard not to push. My body wants to push so badly.” As if to tempt him from his role Stacey widened her thighs on the desk, sliding to the edge and pressing her full swollen belly right against his torso. 

Carter leaned over her, feeling her womb press against him. It was an impossible task before him, trying to keep himself immersed without melting like putty between his wife’s honeyed words. He wanted her again, and his body knew it. Lips found her neck, and the heat of her breath against his skin only made that urge grow. Carter was huffing as he whispered into her ear.

“I know.” He purred. “But we don’t want the baby coming love… slow, so, so slow. I want you to feel every centimeter as it goes down.” His palm found her crotch, massaging over the fabric of her leggings. “I can’t have you missing the sensations like you did when I broke your water…” 

The words hung in the air and Stacey almost missed them; too distracted by the teasing movements of her husband’s thumb over the stretched Lycra of her leggings. 

“Wait— what?” She breathed heavily, trying to focus through the sizzling pleasure between her thighs. But she couldn’t question Carter any further, her round belly seizing abruptly and she gripped his shoulders with a gasp. 

“Shhhh, shhh. Feel that?” He grinned. “You think it would feel like that with the amniotic sac?” Her tightening womb flared his desires, making his body shudder. “Be a good girl, and give me one, little, push…”

Stacey was already panting - whether from the contraction or arousal, she didn’t know. With her head tilting skyward, her husband’s lips grazing her neck, her body complied without question. All the tension, all the pressure, moved south. She grunted, the push drawing out those delicious primal sounds that made her husband feral. Hell, it made her feral too. Fuck, she loved pushing. Even more so when it was against Carter’s large palm. She lifted a fraction, tilting her pelvis towards him and pushed against his perfect counterpressure. As the ‘baby’ moved, her efforts fruitful, she moaned beautifully. 

“Ooooohhh Carter…. That’s… that’s why it feels so… so…. looooooow….. no fluids… this is all just—ughghhh— the head is coming d-down…” she sang through the moan, grinding down on the desk, and taking another breath she prepared to push again with the current contraction. 

“That’s right.” He groaned. “The heads coming down, almost too big for you isn’t it…” Carter pressed his pelvis against her, her inner thighs telling her what she couldn’t see. Maybe there’s time… Carter applied pressure with his palm, the heel of his hand finding her most sensitive spots. 

The contractions peak left his wife panting, but she was waiting, waiting for his approval. The hungry look in his eyes would have betrayed the temptation to make her hold back. The beautiful agony she’d experience would be such a turn on for them both. The mere thought made him want to rip her clothes off here and have sex on his desk. Desperate eyes stared up at him, pleading, she was doing so well at holding back. But even in this role, he wasn’t so cruel that he’d force her to go with no progress.

“Push.”

The word barely left his mouth before Stacey was giving it her all. Her knees lifted, belly firm and tight as she curled forward with the effort of bearing down. “Nnnnghhh!” 

The heat between them, the sexual tension, could be cut with a knife. And yet Stacey’s body was on an instinctual drive, automatic clenching and squeezing of muscles against the solid weight between her hips. Her waters had already gone - Carter hadn’t told her when or where but it must have been in the shower. She’d have noticed otherwise. The pressure on her cervix was astronomical and she was surprised she hadn’t realised it wasn’t the cushioning of fluid but the firm hard skull of the ‘baby’ that was wedged there. 

“Oooooh—ohhhhh—nnnnghh— oh god!” Stacey gasped at the end of push. All her efforts were on bringing this baby through to the birth canal, so much so that as she released the push she slipped backwards, no core muscles to keep her upright. 

Hands took hold of her, gripping beneath her arms to prevent Stacey from falling down to the desk. No matter how immersed into a role Carter might become, there was no chance he would allow Stacey to even have the chance of getting hurt in the pursuit of their pleasures.

“I’ve got you hon.” He said, the mask of a dominating lover slipping for a moment.

“Mmmh… c-can I move? It’s h-hard to push p-properly like this…” Stacey breathlessly asked. The question partly in her submissive role but partly because she’d need assistance to move with the near-constant contractions and the sheer size of the baby in the bowl of her pelvis. 

“Oh?” Carter cocked an eyebrow. “Asking instead of just doing?” He didn’t lean closer to her, instead, he pulled her towards him, forcing her to sit upright in what he could only imagine was an uncomfortable position with the baby so low. “You’re learning love. Let’s get you a new position then…”

He helped her to scoot off the desk, her stance forced wide due to the baby’s low movements. She’d started to turn, to lean on the desk in what he knew she would find more comfortable. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. Carter held her from behind, his arousal pressing against her lower back. Hand between her legs, as if he was concerned the baby would come, he spoke again.

“I haven’t told you what position yet baby.” Carter guided her away from the desk. “I think your only support right now, should be me. No desk to hold, no chair to lean on.” He kissed her cheek. “You bend over and this will end up like the shower all over again…” Not that he’d complain, and for her to be actively pushing? Well that would have been quite the experience. “I’ll make a deal with you.” He lifted her striped shirt, fingers brushing against the nub of her navel. “If you can orgasm, then I’ll let you lean on the desk for a few contractions. Deal?” 

She nodded, breathing heavier from the effort of standing. “Okay y-yes… oooof…mmmhh…” 

At this point the phone was an afterthought, an extra whimsy for him if the mood struck. Perhaps after another contraction or two he’d tweak settings, but this slow progress was far too delicious to alter just yet.

Stacey’s head fell back against her husband’s shoulder, his hands possessively wrapped around her body - one splayed across the firm globe of her belly while the other dipped beneath its curve to cup between her wide legs. “Mmmnh… baby is so heavy, so low… I can feel it-” She hummed, circling her hips slightly, the movement highlighting just how hard and aroused her husband was as his hips mirrored her own “-just wedged there. Ooof— it’s huge!” 

They barely had thirty seconds of this intimate swaying before the next contraction, the first one standing in a while. As she stiffened, Carter growled a pleasurable noise in her ear. “Hold it.” He whispered, her body tensing and tightening beneath his hands. Her knees widened and shook automatically, the barreling pressure reaching new heights aided by gravity. Without anything to lean on, to bend over and brace, Stacey was stuck in her husband's arms while she panted frantically. 

“I… I wanna push….mmmmgh…” she whimpered, trying to fight the urges to bear down. Lifting her arms up and behind her head, she grasped on to her husband any way she could - looping her fingers behind his neck. 

Her preferred labouring position was always to curl forward - on hand and knees, bracing walls, or leaning over the bed or couch - to ease into each contraction and help it progress. But here, now, she was the complete reverse; Carter standing behind while her body arched uncomfortably backwards like a crescent moon, her bump sticking so far out like it was orbiting the couple. It was doing nothing to aid the ‘baby’s’ journey through her birth canal but that didn’t mean the desire to push was any less urgent. 

Stacey hissed through her teeth as the contraction fast approached its peak. “I—I need to push— Car-Carter I have to push—” But still her husband didn’t give the word, didn’t tell her to bear down. In desperation to continue holding back she uttered the shaky words “touch me!”, knowing if she wanted to push in her preferred position she’d need to climax first and there was only one way that was happening. 

One hand stayed dominantly between her legs but Carter slowly moved his other hand over her low and contracting bump, beneath her clothes, towards her sensitive breasts. She moaned, almost shuddering, his fingers brushing over each nipple. 

“I know you want to.” He mused, placing emphasis on how her pushing was a choice. Of course at this point he knew to resist was an impossibility, but watching and listening to her try to hold back was a pleasure unto itself. “But you can’t. Not yet…”

Between index finger and thumb, he pinched her breast, the warmth of her milk coating his fingertips. Simultaneously, he straightened his other hand between her thighs, lifting it up to press against her opening. The fabric did nothing to conceal her desire. And Carter didn’t care if that was just leakage of the excess amniotic fluid or actual sexual fluids, his wife was dripping beneath his touch, and that was exactly what he wanted. The hand between her legs moved back and forth, making a sawing motion that with her increased sensitivity would drive her mad. He’d done it before, and adored the result. 

“That’s my girl.” He purred into her ear. “I can see you thinking you’ll get away with pushing a little… I suggest, you don’t try that.” His middle finger curled between her legs. “Be a shame if I have to punish you again.”

“Oh god, Carter!” She mewled. Stacey bent her legs without thinking, sinking onto his flattened palm, chasing friction and grinding down. Pleasure thrummed through her veins, reaching almost the same intensity as the need to bear down. Every part of her body was trembling, her chest heaving as she gasped for air, stuck beneath the devilish ministrations of her husband’s hands. She was on a knife edge with no idea which way she’d fall. 

He squeezed her nipple in tandem with additional pressure between her thighs, Stacey shuddered before grunting a moan. “Oh no… I’m gonna… p-push…” Her words were a frantic whine laced with unbridled enjoyment. She was desperately clinging on, trying to hold back, but there was just no distinction between her body’s demands. There was no way she could do one and not the other. If she climaxed, she’d most definitely push. 

“Not. Yet.” He growled. Carters hips pressed against her, his arousal undeniable. This torture was so, so sweet. Milk was leaving Stacey’s shirt soaked, almost as if their son was in the other room crying and she responded in kind. The warm fluids coated his fingers as she whimpered. He stretched the moment, three seconds, five… Carter decided that now, she deserved a little relief. Fingers dug in, the fabric of her leggings only barely preventing him from penetrating deep inside. As it was, he still found some depth. In the same moment, he moved his hand back and forth with speed, his breath exhaling against her sweat damp neck. 

Stacey careened right over the edge, any hope of holding back promptly evaporating. Her inner muscles clenched, a sharp gasp catching in her throat, the climax taking hold. “Ah…ahhh…. Carter—yes—!” With trembling knees she held on tight, her fingers still looped behind her husband’s neck above her head. With the crescendo of pleasure spasming between her thighs, her womb clamped down in tandem, taking the opportunity and pushing along with the orgasm. 

The result of her combined arousal and pushing was felt instantaneously. The heavy boulder in her hips shifted lower, splitting her pelvis apart, forcing her knees to bow. The simulated baby was dropping even further, even closer to the exit and she groaned with pained pleasure at the increased fullness. 

The drop was anticipated. Carter's hand between her legs held firm, preventing his wife from dropping to all fours in order to open up for pushing. This was still early in the active stage of labor, and he knew as much as her body wanted to rush, Stacey would want it to move slowly. Or would she?

“Don’t hold your breath.” He told her, letting his own knees buckle to give her just a little more space to work with. “Feel it dropping down?” Of course she did, her moans were enough evidence of that. “I’m sorry I had to punish you love.” The contraction was ebbing, as it did, he guided his laboring wife to the desk so he could place her hands on it. Before he let go, he tucked her hair behind her ears. Sweat dripped off her nose onto the stained wood top, her exposed womb still open to the air. Carter was forced to bottle his lust for her. He moved, leaning on the desk in a nonchalant manner.

“You did good, you listened.” He smiled, showing just enough teeth that told Stacey he was enjoying playing this part far more than either of them could have anticipated. “And when you listen…” Carter turned on the phone screen, letting it be in plain view for Stacey. “You get a reward.” His finger found a slider, next to it, a depiction of a uterus and birth canal, with the artificial baby’s progress. He moved it, to just behind the opening.

With her hands on the edge of the desk, Stacey settled into her much preferred position, watching the way her husband’s eyes sparkled with the reflection of the phone’s light. Or perhaps it was pure glee. As his fingertip rose from the screen she felt something change deep inside her womb. She hadn’t seen what he’d selected, only that a decision had been made. But she was soon to find out; immediately her swollen belly seized, tight and firm, outlining the shape of the artificial baby inside. It was strong, almost like a contraction, but somehow not. 

“Ohhhhh… ohhhh something's happening… mmmmhh…” she moaned, leaning into the desk and lowering her head slightly, her ass naturally shifting backwards and opening her pelvis more. “Ahhh… oh it’s moving… down! Oh wow….” 

Stacey couldn’t help the lengthy breathy moans as whatever setting that had been chosen activated. The bowling ball between her legs was sinking - heavier, deeper, closer. Without thought her feet slid apart on the carpet, widening her stance instinctively around the hard skull that now felt dangerously close to appearing. 

“I’m… I’m not pushing… oh but it feels like it’s coming out… unghhhh….” Stacey almost purred the moan, overwhelmed by the sudden fullness that was making her aroused again already. And brought with it the desire, but not a need, to push. 

He cupped her cheek, running a lover's thumb across it. Using the smallest implication of force, he lifted her gaze so they could lock eyes. 

“It’s going to try and come out.” He told her. “It’s right there, between your legs.” Carter's smile became more genuine as memories of the drive thru played on repeat behind his eyes. He recalled this exact moment there, where he’d placed his hands, what he’d done while she pushed, the pleasures they both felt as a result. He wondered inwardly if such pleasures should be repeated, if Stacey’s body could handle even more erotic pleasure. His hand dropped from her cheek, and he pushed off the desk.

“Now, I could let it go smoothly.” He said, circling her. As he did, his fingertips graced along the exposed flesh of her belly and lower back. “But I think that would be too nice.” The gap between her shirt and skin spread as he slipped his hand up, middle finger finding every bump of her vertebrae. The shudder she gave in response fueled his own need for intimacy. He found her shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he leant in to whisper in her ear. “What do you think baby? Should I be nice? Or will you be naughty?”

Stacey was practically panting. The thrumming pressure combined with Carter’s teasing touches was deliciously intense. She could feel his warm breath on her sweat-dampened neck, the rough callouses on his hands as he glided up the smooth skin of back. 

“Mmmhh… I… I just wanna push Carter… I don’t care if I d-don’t make progress I just— oooohhh I want to feel… damn it’s right there!” Stacey groaned, her knuckles squeezing the edge of the desk, the fullness between her thighs was so tempting, calling at her to bear down. “P-please let me p-push properly.”  

Carter took his time to think on it. She did ask nicely, as he’d told her she must, and she was in what he remembered as the hottest part of the whole ordeal. The phone was stuffed into his pocket, the next alteration wouldn’t be till a very specific point was reached. So all his attention could be on the moment about to unfold.

“Ok.” He said, slipping a palm between her opening thighs. “Push for me…”

A sharp inhale, a minute adjustment of her legs, and then Stacey was pushing. A deep and forceful push, a productivepush. “Nnnnghhh!!!” Her teeth were bared, gritted, as all her efforts sank down through her pelvis. It felt so damn satisfying she sighed an enjoyable exhale at the end of the push before taking another deep breath and going again. 

Her husband’s hand was cupped between her legs, keeping her stance suitably wide, but crucially applying counterpressure through her tight leggings against her sensitive opening. Stacey found her hips dipping slightly, grinding and pressing down against his palm as she pushed again, feeling the baby move down while Carter’s hand pressed up as if to meet it. She was so beautifully full. So heavy and swollen and gravid and now pushing into her husband’s firm hand. It was exactly where she wanted this evening to go and was determined to enjoy every second of it. A low grunt of pure primal effort rattled from her throat as she beared down, feeling every tiny millimetre of progress, the baby sitting heavier against her labia and beginning to peak through with the push. 

The pressure against his hand increased, and the delight along with it. Her body was trying to open around the head, but with the size they’d set, even the added effort from her openly pushing was doing little to progress it. Even if it did start to poke out, Carter would simply have held firm. So many unmedicated births, and Stacey still shook when bearing down. Carter supposed that no matter how many children they had, her body would always react like this. That, was more than ok with him. 

“I can feel it.” He said, gently patting the solid mass bulging in her leggings. “It’s right there love, trying to escape.” Carter found her stomach again. “I think it’s safer in there, don’t you? Maybe we should try to hold back a bit, let this moment stretch.” As the words came, the contraction finally ebbed, and he emphasized by pressing firmly where the baby was descending. 

A whimpering sound rumbled behind Stacey’s closed mouth. When the contraction released her muscles stopped pushing and with the relaxation - along with Carter’s gentle nudge - the baby slipped back slightly. It was still undeniably there, just behind her skin, sitting heavy and oh so ready. 

“I forget… how intense this bit is.” She mumbled, catching her breath back. “When they are this close, but not quite crowning, it’s like— hmmmm…. It’s like nature takes over. My body working on pure instinct.” 

Slowly Stacey circled her hips, a tentative move to really feel just how low the ‘baby’ was nestled, to appreciate every ounce of fullness. Usually, with a real baby, there would be a sense of urgency and need to deliver quickly and safely. Especially once this point had been reached. But now, now there was no risk to an infant or Stacey. Right here and now was purely about pleasure and fantasy and exploration. Her husband’s choice of words echoed in her mind. Stretch. Yes, soon her body would be stretched thin around a baby. The implication behind Carter’s words was clear - this birth was going to be a long and slow progress. 

Slowly, Stacey righted her body, letting go of the desk to stand straighter. Somewhat. Carter’s hand stayed between her legs, reluctant to let go. 

“Yes, it’s definitely safer for them to stay inside a little longer.” Her words purred with emphasis. “You’re right. You’re the boss.” Stacey added, appealing to the dominant role Carter was so eager to play. “And…. Perhaps as the Boss, you should take a seat at your desk.” Her eyes twinkled with delight. 

“Mmm.” Carter hummed, weighing the prospect. A show would be nice, and with the tightness in his shorts, sitting would be preferred. The smallest application of pressure between her thighs before pulling it away was his answer. Revelling in the stifled yelp Stacey made, he distanced himself. 

“I think I will.” He said. The office chair had been pushed aside not long before. Upon first entering the room Carter had debated having Stacey sit in it while he leaned on the desk, watching her embrace the beautiful agony as the ‘baby’ emerged between her thighs, its gap shrunken by the leather of the chair and the gravidity of her womb. The mental image left him salivating. He pulled the chair forwards, sitting himself down facing her. The phone was on his lap, as was the obvious evidence that he was still in fact very in love with his wife. 

“I don’t think you should use the desk for the next few contractions honey.” He told her. Absently the phone was unlocked, and the settings opened. Not yet. Not just yet. Carter resisted the urge to enact his plan. They needed some more fun first. “Come here love.” His wife took a moment, gathering her strength he assumed. The second her hands left the desk, they were cradling her stomach, one reaching even further to that growing mass between her covered thighs. The devious side of him couldn’t help itself. As soon as she was standing in front of him, he smiled up at her. Carter, triggered a contraction.

“W-what?” She’d only had a moment to glance at the phone before the contraction hit full force. With no build up, Carter was able to watch her body alter. Stacey was forced to double over, and he caught her, placing her hands on his shoulders. The position left him with an eyeful of cleavage and a rock hard hanging belly. With those in front of him, he had to fight to keep eye contact with her.

“Push for me.” He said. “I won’t stop you…”

But Stacey was already bearing down. The choice wasn’t hers to make anymore. Immediately her legs trembled and widened, her fingers squeezing Carter’s shoulders, and a deep primal force squeezed deliriously low. The whimpering groan in her throat transformed into a grunting sound of effort. 

With how low the ‘baby’ was in her pelvis, the absurd width of her gait, she was practically standing over Carter's legs, bent forward at the hip as she braced against him during this intense contraction. Their faces were mere centimetres apart, both flushed and heavy breathing for entirely different reasons. Stacey’s mouth hung open with another push, eerily silent this time as she bore down with such focus she lost herself for a moment. The pressure was growing between her thighs, that firm and heavy weight slowly parting her body open more and more and more. She could feel every iota of progress happening beneath those tight black leggings, the skull of the ‘baby’ bulging and retreating with each individual push. After four kids already, every second was familiar, her body knew exactly what to do. It also recognised every slight change of sensations and she gasped at the end of a forceful push. 

“Ughhh… c-crowning… oh god….mmmmmh…” Stacey moaned with a wobbling tone of pain and pleasure. 

Carter knew she was telling the truth, Stacey’s experience was not in question. However, that didn’t prevent Carters hand from finding the evidence of that crown. His eyebrows rose slightly as he realized just how big the ‘baby’s’ head was. It was one thing to see the measurements on the app, but feeling how completely it filled his palm was a whole other experience.

“Good girl.” He told her, patting the bulge as if it too deserved praise. “Don’t let it slip back in, you’ve made so much progress.” She was finally there, the stage where she was at her most beautiful. The concern was empty, there was no chance of the ‘baby’ slipping back in. Carter enacted his plan, the role he played and his own desire for what happened folding in to become one thought. The phone screen was back to the control, where only a little while ago he’d reset her progress as punishment. What he was planning now was no punishment, it was ultimate pleasure. A single toggle, and the ‘baby’ ceased to move. No progress, no loss, its head was trapped at a full crown. 

“There.” He told her. “Now it won't slip back in. But, it’s not coming out either.” 

She looked confused, or simply exhausted, Carter had a hard time differentiating. Stacey was still panting as her body recovered. He felt the trembling in her fingers, and saw the shaking of her thighs. A full crown, trapped until he changed it. He sat the phone aside, bringing both his hands to her belly.

“See, I was thinking.” He spoke slowly, letting each word sink in as Stacey battled her body’s needs. “We had sex, a few times… we both had our fun and finished together. But then, just a few minutes ago, you finished, without your husband.” His grin grew wolfish. “I don’t know if it’s fair to be uneven in that, do you?”

Stacey shook her head, unable to speak, panting through the sheer fact a large ‘baby’ was at a full crown between her legs. She knew Carter wasn’t asking for penetrative sex, his hand cupping the bulge beneath her leggings meant he knew that was not physically possible. Her eyes dropped from his face, seeing the strained fabric of his trousers that were tented to the ceiling. She wanted to hold him, to bring him as much pleasure as she was feeling, but damn with the baby where it was she was hesitant to let go of his shoulders. 

The app might have changed settings, preventing any progress from happening, but that certainly did not alter what she felt on a deep and primal level. The instinct to drop into a squat and push, no matter how pointless, was oh so tempting. With a trembling hand, Stacey let go of one of Carter’s shoulders and reached for his waistband. Immediately her knees began to shake and she whimpered against the urge to push. 

The elastic band was pulled away with ease, as was that of the underwear he wore beneath. He was at attention already, and had been for some time, leaving no need for any foreplay or teasing. He shuddered, as her fingers wrapped around him, shocks of pleasure echoing through him. 

“That’s it, Stace.” He said, keeping his palm firm against the bulge while the other rose to her cheek. She began to move, her hand making the necessary motions to give him a much needed release. His thumb probed for her most sensitive spot where it was stretched to the max around the head. He brushed against it, only then noticing her legs shaking. He excused it as her own pleasure growing from the intimacy of the moment. “That’s my girl.”

She tried to focus, to listen to the gravelled sounds of her husband’s enjoyment, concentrating on her hands as they glided up and down his length. Then his thumb ghosted her clit and she shuddered, his touch prompting a sudden contraction. 

“Ohhhh… Carter…. This-might— not be a good— idea…” she breathed heavily. 

The pressure between her wide legs was intoxicating and forceful, her body stretched thin and on edge, Stacey barely managed to hold back the instinct to bear down. She had one hand braced against his shoulder while the other worked on Carter’s erection, all the while her belly was an iron sphere that was contracting so hard and begging for her to push. Stacey couldn’t help but clench both her fists a little firmer unconsciously. 

The firmer grip only seemed to invigorate him more. His chest was rising and falling with speed, each pump bringing him closer and closer to the edge of climax. This wasn’t a typical vice of theirs, but dammit he was enjoying it. He brought his index finger to her lips, still too immersed into the role to actually take in the weight of her words and look. She was just playing the part, and doing incredibly good. His lust filled gaze met hers, and he felt the beginnings of his body’s crest over the peak. He pressed harder against her clit, lost in the moment and unable to comprehend the gravity of such an action. 

“Don’t worry.” He said, struggling to keep his voice level. “This is perfect.” 

“B-but.” 

Carter leant in to kiss her, the only sure way to prevent anything more from escaping her lips. He felt her pace quicken, and their tongues began a dance within their mouths. He grabbed her breast, closing his eyes as the two of them enjoyed the moment. He was so close, so very nearly able to release the pent up pressure within his loins. She was holding him a little tighter now, and he couldn’t help wondering in what way she was playing her role. Her jaw quivered against his, a sharp exhale of breath into his mouth. She was no longer pumping, she was simply standing, breathing. 

“O-oh. Ohhh!” She groaned. He knew that noise, more specifically, he knew what came immediately after.

His eyes opened, only to see hers shut tight, teeth clenched. A fraction of a second later, pain hit him and he was forced to cry out in alarm. Her knuckles were white around his shaft, squeezing it with such ferocity that any thoughts of pleasure or even roleplay disappeared in an instant. 

“Stacey?! Ah! Stacey!”

“Can’t. Stop!” She grunted, words barely forming as her growls of effort tried to force the baby out.

He quit fondling her breast, and tried desperately to loosen the vice on his erection. Her stomach was shrunken, this contraction far more intense than what he’d ever set. Any chance of the analytical side of his mind figuring out if there was something going on with the app was squashed along with his manhood under his wife’s grip. He tried to apply counter pressure to the baby’s head, hoping that it might get her to relax, but what he felt as pressure was applied made his eyes widen. Despite the app pausing the progress, and despite her body being stretched to its limit, the head was shifting, her primal efforts combined with her body’s need to expel the child within actually overwrote the programming of the app. She was making progress, the bulge in her leggings moving millimeter by millimeter.

“Stacey! Stop pushing!” He hissed. Her grip couldn’t be loosened, and he could only imagine how much worse it’d get if she kept going.

“It’s— it’s coming out—!” She gasped, unable to stop the actions of Mother Nature. 

The contraction was a tsunami of pressure. There was no fighting or denying it, all Stacey could do was ride it out. But her hand was wrapped around her husband’s appendage when the wave struck, rooting her to the spot, unable to move or loosen her grip or do anything besides push. Carter’s noises of agony shocked her, it matched the fiery pain between her legs. With her eyes closed she couldn’t see what was happening, or even think beyond the realm of her own existence. The only thought in her mind was to push. And push hard. 

Carter desperately reached for the phone. With the contraction only worsening, there was no way for her to finally let go until it was over. He grabbed it, opening the app with speed and quickly hitting the button to cancel the contraction. He heard Stacey gasp, and felt her weight press on him as the peaked contraction ended as fast as it had begun. 

“Easy.” He encouraged, pain still in his voice. “Easy…” Carter rubbed her stomach, already able to tell that she was recovering simply from how her breathing was normalizing.

The contraction ended but the throbbing pressure of the full crown lingered. It took quite a few breaths to fade to a point where she could speak or move. 

“I know that one was rough, and I hate to kill the mood but… d-do you mind loosening your grip a bit baby?” He looked down at his shaft, all the blood practically choked out of it. “I don’t think a vasectomy was in the plans for tonight.”

“Oh…. Oh my god Carter…” Stacey stuttered, finally realising the full effect of what just happened. Immediately her fingers loosened, her hand pulling away quickly. “Shit. I’m sorry darling, I didn’t mean to, I just…. that contraction was insane.” She felt so guilty, accidentally nearly castrating her husband was certainly not how they wanted the evening to go. 

“I couldn’t stop pushing, everything just got so… primal or something.” She was still panting heavily, her legs still bent wide over his lap, miraculously the crown between her legs momentarily forgotten with her worry for Carter’s well being. “Are you okay honey?” 

“I’m ok, Stace.” Carter couldn’t help the chuckle that came. This was all so ridiculous, and clearly they’d been so caught up in the moment that consequences of their actions became moot in their minds. “Just want to make sure I can give you a real baby when the time comes.” He made a show of checking to make sure that he was still in possession of his appendage, then tucked it away into his pants. As soon as it was away and safe from Stacey’s frankly frightening grip strength, he returned his attention to her.

“Seriously, it’s ok.” He smiled. To show her that he was in fact fine, he leaned in and kissed her. “No hard feelings. Well, besides down there.”  

Her worried expression formed a slight smirk. Playfully she pushed at his shoulders, stepping back ever so slightly and straightening up. “Carter! I was really worried, I thought I’d hurt you.” Relief flooded her heart. Not only did she not want her husband to be injured, but she too was thinking of future real babies to add to their brood. Neither of them wanted that to be taken off the cards. 

The unplanned ending to Carter’s hand-job really took the pair out of the moment, fantasy having been quickly swept aside. But their evening wasn’t over; Stacey was still fully crowned with this simulated baby. A fact her body was all too eager to remind them both. 

As her womb clenched abruptly again, in spite of the app’s settings, she spun around to brace the desk edge. “Oooohhhh… this.. this baby wants out… Carter….” She moaned deeply, leaning forward, giving an impromptu perfect view of her backside for her sitting husband. 

“Shit, ok, ok we got this.” The roleplay was gone, the pure sexual bliss along with it. But they remained, a couple who found more joy in these kinds of moments than anyone could have dreamed. The app was forgotten, and it was like they were trying to deliver one of their own children again. Carter took hold of her hips, appreciating the view for a moment. Thumbs dug into her flesh, massaging in the exact spots he knew would count. The head was right there, her leggings left nothing to the imagination. 

“No more holding back Stace.” His tone was that of a husband and father, encouragement dripping from each word with ease. “I want you to push for me ok? I’m right here, you know what to do.” 

“R-really-? I can p-push?” Stacey’s words were barely cohesive through the desperate panting she was making. With how the last contraction had gone she was doing her damndest to hold back, not to let her body give in to the primal surge to deliver. 

“No more roleplaying honey. Let’s get this baby out.”

With a shaky inhale, Stacey gripped the desk edge and spread her feet wider on the floor, opening her pelvis that necessary fraction more. She was silent at first with the pushing, then louder and louder the grunting strain of effort rattled her throat. It was right there, so fucking close and stretching her beyond anything she remembered. Carter’s hands pressed against each ass cheek, blissful counterpressure for her widening hips. One…two…pushes, each one bringing progress but seemingly not enough for the head to fully come out. The leggings. Damn it. 

Stacey groaned, frustrated, and took a long deep breath. This time her whole body shook with effort as she bore down with a fierce goddess like energy. Suddenly the head burst free into the gusset of her leggings and she cried out with sheer relief and slumped over the desk with exhaustion. 

He saw it coming, Stacey’s elbows rested on the desk as the head burst from between her legs. Her leggings were stretched thin, the fabric nearly allowing him to actually see the artificial baby through it. Before the inevitable occurred, Carter scooted forwards in the chair, bumping into the back of her knees with his. It took her by surprise, but in one fluid motion his wife had gone from standing precariously on the verge of collapse, to sitting in his lap, legs spread wide.

“Hey there pretty lady.” He said, wrapping an arm around her gravid body to make sure she wouldn’t slip off of him. “There’s a baby hanging between your legs, love.” The baby wasn’t real, none of this really was, but even so Carter felt the sting of emotions at the idea that they’d have another baby in their arms soon. Gingerly, he took hold of her hand, and reached it down between her quaking thighs. “Right there Stacey. It’s right there.” His thumb caressed her hand as they both touched the head. 

Her chest was heaving, trying to catch her breath back. It was difficult to reach around her still present bump but Carter’s warm hands ensured they reached the destination. Beneath the stretched jersey there was an incredibly large sphere between her legs. “It’s… it’s huge….” She laughed through her heavy breathing. “I didn’t think I selected too large a baby but this… this head feels bigger than any of our kids.” 

Stacey felt safe and at home in her husband’s arms, comfortable and familiar, albeit with a ‘baby’ half born from her body. Arguably that was an accurate reflection on the couple's lives. Her head tilted back, turning to nuzzle his chest and neck, inhaling him. Their hands stayed between her legs as she mumbled with quiet content. “Shoulders… starting to… press down…” 

“Perfect timing.” He told her, his smile making the whisker on his cheek brush against the skin of her forehead. “How about we try one last little enjoyment with this?” He let go of her hand just enough to tug on her leggings. There was no way to remove them currently, not that either of them wanted that anyways. He simply pulled them to the side, allowing the baby’s head to rest to the right, giving an easier path rather than directly into the seam.

“Think you can pant the baby out? You did all the hard work getting the head, relax yourself, the hard part is over.” He planted a kiss on her temple. He couldn’t help thinking that this was more intimate a moment than any other they’d had today.

“Mmmmmh…. I can try…. Hooo okay… here it comes…” Stacey swallowed, readying herself as much as she could. Without any input from the phone, which was long discarded, her body squeezed familiarly. Muscles tensing and contracting, clenching around the rest of the ‘baby’ that was nestled in the birth canal. Naturally her hips began to rock in time with the rhythmic spasms of her body, soft moans through breathy exhales erupting from her chest. 

“Uhhhh… ohhhh I can feel it babe! Oooohh I’m not pushing but it’s moving down… ohhh god….” Stacey’s breath got quicker as one shoulder stretched her sensitive opening, the temptation to push with the pressure was enticing but apparently not necessary as she jolted slightly when the first shoulder slipped free. 

“You’ve got it!” Carter moved her hand, bringing it to the side where the second shoulder was emerging. Even without being able to see, he knew exactly how it looked. The head, sliding along her thigh, stretching her leggings as the shoulders pushed out behind it. With a gentle nudge, he pressed against the baby, just enough to have the second shoulder pop loose. He felt her jump, and a second later the relieved exhale that came from the biggest ordeal a woman could face drawing to a close. The ‘baby’ slipped out, filling her pant leg and leaving them both awestruck.

“Holy shit.” Carter muttered, half chuckling, half crying. “We just had another baby.” Instinct fought him, a need to check on the wellbeing of the newborn. Such instincts melted away as two things happened. Carter watched, as Stacey’s stomach began to deflate, becoming the same as it had been only this morning. As unsettling a sight that was, it was nothing compared to the next. The ‘baby’, which had not made a sound upon coming into the world, simply began to shrink. “Holy shit…” The words were quiet, his brain having trouble processing such a thing.

Stacey’s hands went between her legs automatically. By the time they got there the ‘baby’ had shrunk so much there wasn’t much more than a tennis ball size shape behind her leggings and that promptly disappeared. All that effort, all that straining and pushing, and there was nothing there. This was a stark difference for the mother of four. 

As if a switch clicked in her mind Stacey pulled at the waistband of her leggings and her hands dived into her panties. She slowly pulled it back out with a tiny pill placed between her index and thumb. “That happened… that happened quicker than I expected. To be honest, I didn’t read up much about what happened after, got too carried away with the pregnancy and birth instructions.” 

She lifted to their eyeline. It was the first time Carter actually saw the pill for what it was, Stacey had inserted it before he’d got home from work. “It’s crazy that this one pill… could do all of that.” She said in quiet awe. Her breathing was slowly coming back to normal, her stomach returned to its usual slightly rounded shape. Her husband was quiet behind her. “Are you okay?” 

“More than ok.” He said. “We got a little carried away eh?” He laughed, holding her tight to him. He felt like he could sleep for days, and if that was how he felt, he could only imagine how exhausted she was. They remained in the chair for a while longer, not daring to seperate after such an ordeal. If he was honest, not having a newborn to cuddle with after the birth was a disappointment, but such feelings would ebb as soon as the kids were home. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his wife.

“I think the app has a few glitches.” He told her after a while being quiet. “I’m excited to see what others we might be able to find. Maybe later tonight…” Carter traced his finger across her stomach. “We can test out that twins option?”