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"Ma'am, can I get you anything? A pillow, some water?"

The flight attendant — young, neat ponytail, name tag that said Cara — was already reaching for the overhead compartment before Reggie could answer, and Reggie kept her face as composed as she could manage, which was getting harder by the minute.

"Water would be great, thank you," she said, and her voice only caught slightly on the last word because the contraction that had been building for the last thirty seconds chose that exact moment to crest, rolling through her lower back and down into her pelvis with a deep, grinding force that made her press her thighs together under the blanket.

Cara set the cup on the tray and moved on down the aisle without a second glance, and Reggie let out the breath she'd been holding in a long, controlled stream. "Hoo... hoo hoo... hhhh."

"How far apart now?" Dax asked from the aisle seat beside her, not looking up from his phone.

"A minute forty," she said through her teeth. "Maybe less."

He set the phone face-down on his thigh and turned to look at her then, and she knew that look. She'd known it for twenty years, had catalogued every version of it, and this particular version had nothing to do with worry. 

His eyes moved from her face down to the enormous, low-hanging globe of her belly, round and gravid and pressing heavily into her lap even with her knees drawn up as far as the seat would allow, and something in his expression settled into that private, focused attention that made her want to hit him and also made her stomach flip despite everything.

"You're fine," he said.

"I know I'm fine," Reggie said. "I'm just telling you how close I am."

Three rows ahead of them, their older three were out cold in a heap of travel pillows, the eldest with her mouth open and her neck at an angle that was going to hurt later. Nobody back here was awake. 

The nearest passengers were a row up on the opposite side, both wearing noise-canceling headphones, completely sealed off from the world. The back of the cabin was dim and close and, for the moment, theirs.

“I knew we shouldn’t have flown to see your mother.” Reggie said bitterly through another tightening. 

Theo stirred against her side and she guided him back to her breast without thinking about it, and he latched and settled immediately, his fat fist curling against her with the total confidence of someone who had never once in his eleven months worried about anything.

"Get the leggings down," Dax said with a wry smile. 

Reggie stared at him. "We are in economy, lest you forget."

"And you are about to have a baby in economy," he said so calmly, it’s getting into her nerves, "so get the leggings down and keep the blanket over your lap, and nobody is going to see anything."

She hated that he was right. 

She hated it with a specific, well-worn bitterness that had been accumulating since the seventh month when he'd first floated this whole scenario as though it were perfectly reasonable, but hating it didn't change the fact that not only their fifth baby currently lodged in her pelvis had a non-negotiable opinion about its arrival but she also deep inside love this whole idea. 

She worked the leggings and her underwear down her thighs in the cramped space, shifting her hips, and got them free of one ankle and bunched around the other before she pulled the blanket back over herself.

She pressed her palm between her thighs and felt the swollen, taut heat of herself, her labia already full, bulging and aching, the baby's head bearing down so far into the birth canal that even the light pressure of her own hand sent a sharp wave of sensation flooding up through her core.

"It's right there," she said, and her voice had gone very low. "Dax. The head is about to come…hoooo–hooo hooo hoooo–” 

He reached over and lifted the edge of the blanket just long enough to look, and she watched his jaw tighten in a way that had nothing to do with alarm.

"Yeah," he said, and let the blanket fall back. "It is." He grabbed his own blanket and set it over his thighs, too, trying to cover is growing bulge there, too. 

The next contraction didn't give her a warning. 

It arrived hard and low, seizing her from the base of her spine and driving straight down with a force that shoved the baby’s fat head forward against her hand, and she crammed her face into Dax's upper arm and bit down on the sound that tore up her throat.

"MMMPHH — nnHH — oh god —hooooooooo–hooo hooo hoooo–" She ground her teeth into his sleeve, her fingers pressing desperately against her vulva, feeling the head surge against them with every pulse of the contraction. Her perineum burned, already stretching, the whole front wall of her vagina pushing outward. "HhhhNNGH — Dax, it's pushing through, I can feel it pushing —"

"Don't fight it," he said, low in her ear.

"I'm trying to slow it down, if I just —" She shifted her hips and immediately regretted it because the movement brought the baby down another fraction and the pressure from her movement and the toddler she was carrying went from enormous to total. "HHMMPHH — okay, okay —hoooo hoooo hooooooo—"

"Stop trying to slow it down, Reggie."

"There are people on this plane," she hissed, lifting her face just long enough to say it.

"Half of them are asleep and the other half have their headphones in," he said, perfectly level. 

She pressed her face back into his arm and bore down because her body had already made that decision, and she felt her labia spread around the advancing head, felt the deep hot stretch of her perineum pulling taut as the baby worked through her cervix and down through the last of the birth canal with the focused, patient insistence of a fifth child who had done this before.

"HhhhNNNGGH — MMPHHH —" The sounds came out in bursts against his sleeve, each one half-swallowed, pressed into the warm bulk of his arm. Her free hand fisted into the blanket. "It's coming through, I feel it coming through —"

"I know you do," he said, and his hand came up to press against the back of her neck, heavy and unhurried. His breathing had changed, she could hear it, the way it had gone slightly uneven, and she knew exactly what that meant.

"You are such an ass," she breathed into his arm.

"Head down," he said.

She put her head down on his arm. 

Her palm cupped against herself felt the shift — the teardrop shape of the head pressing outward between her folds, small and firm and wet, pushing against the stretched ring of her labia with a force that made her clitoris ache from the inside out. The skin of her perineum was pulling to its absolute limit, and amniotic fluid was already leaking steadily over her fingers and soaking into her leggings beneath her.

"HHhhNNGH — MMMPHHHH —" She pushed into the next contraction, long and grinding, and felt the head advance another fraction and hold, lodged at its widest point with her labia stretched in a burning, stinging ring around the crown. "Ohhhh — MMPHHH — it burns, it burns so much —"

"Breathe through it," Dax said.

"Hoo hoo hoo — hhh — hoo hoo —" She panted through the worst of the stretch, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes from the sheer searing heat of it, her fingers spread wide against her perineum to ease what pressure she could. Her vulva was swollen and flushed and stretched fully open around the baby's skull, the shape of the head clearly visible to her own touch, every ridge and curve of it pressing against the taut walls of her vagina as it inched forward.

Through it all, her toddler suckled and slept, milk-drunk, it seems, on her engorged breasts. 

Down the aisle, Cara passed through again with a drinks trolley and Reggie felt her go past without looking up, face pressed into Dax's arm, the blanket pulled high, breathing in hard controlled bursts through her nose.

Cara paused.

"Is she alright?" she asked Dax, keeping her voice low.

"Migraine," Dax said, without missing a beat. "She gets them on long flights. She just needs to stay still and keep her eyes closed."

A brief pause, and then the trolley moved on.

Reggie would have laughed if there had been any breath left in her body to do it with, but another contraction rolled in on the heels of the last one and she pushed, hard, bearing down with everything she had left, and felt the head inch forward into a full crown — fully out, fully free, sitting heavy and wet and slick in her cupped hand with amniotic fluid running in a warm, gushing stream down her inner thighs and pooling in the leggings beneath her, catching on the hem of the blanket.

"HHNNNN — MMMPHHHH —" The sound tore out of her muffled and desperate, her whole body trembling, and she felt Dax's hand press harder against the back of her neck. "Haaaahh — haaaah — okay — okay, the head is out, Dax, the head is —"

"I know," he said. "Keep going." at this point, he looked around and brought a hand under his blanket to reach inside his sweatpants, giving his hard and leaking cock a few pumps. 

She snorted at what he did but bit her lip and stroked her thumb over the wet hair plastered against the skull between her legs, feeling the baby shift and rotate under her fingers, the presenting shoulder turning into position. 

She knew this feeling. She loved this feeling, even now, even here, pressed into the back row of an economy cabin thirty thousand feet over the Pacific with her husband's arm as the only thing keeping her from making a sound that would wake every sleeping passenger from here to the galley.

She genuinely, in her bones, loved this.

“Dax,” she whispered hoarsely, and he looked down on her, eyes glossed over, hand pumping himself as discreetly as he can. 

“Yeah, babe?” 

“Kiss me…” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He leaned down and kissed his wife as he continued to pump himself, feeling his balls start to tighten a bit as they made out. 

The next contraction built and she pushed into it, and the first shoulder eased through with a long, wet, squelching resistance that pulled a sharp, muffled cry from her throat.

"HHNN — MMPHHH — there — that's it —"

“Let me see, Reg.” He tells her and she sat back and slightly lifted the blanket just enough for him to see it. 

“There you go—Mmmmpphhh—haaaaaah–hooo hooo hooo–” 

One more push, shorter and decisive, and the second shoulder came free with a slick, gushing rush, and then the rest of the baby slid out into her waiting hands in a warm, wet flood of fluid and relief, trailing the last of the amniotic sac, and Reggie pulled her daughter up against her chest under the blanket and held her there, next to the nursing toddler. 

Dax made a grunting sound as he came into the blanket draped over him. 

“F–fuck yeah…” 

Cara came back through with a stack of napkins six minutes later and stopped at their row again, looking at the blanket-covered situation with eyes that had gone rather wide.

"Oh my god," she said, keeping her voice very low. "Is that — did she just —"

"She did," Dax said, entirely unbothered.

Cara stood very still for a moment. Then she said, "I'm going to get the first aid kit and the senior attendant, and I'm going to need you to not move," and she was gone before Dax could answer.

Reggie looked at the babies on her, one toddler now milk-drunk and deeply asleep and the newborn just latching, her hair sticking to her forehead, her new daughter warm and breathing against her chest.

"You know she's going to file a report," Reggie said.

"Probably," Dax agreed.

Reggie looked down at the babies, then back up at her husband, and she laughed — short and exhausted and completely helpless, the sound muffled quickly against the top of her daughter's head.

"You are so lucky I actually love doing this," she said.

Dax's mouth curved, slow and satisfied. "I know," he said. “I can’t wait for us to do it again.” 

-fin

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His uncle had died shortly before the pandemic had shut the world down, and he'd left Aaron something they had shared, a large, brass telescope. As a child, Aaron had loved watching the stars, but had sadly fallen out of taking time to simply wonder at the heavens and celestial bodies that revealed themselves at night. With a shrug, Aaron brought out the box that held the old device and set it up, pointing it at the sky... only to sigh with disgust. Light pollution. He'd have to drive for hours to get clear of enough of the wash to see much of anything. Sighing, he aimed it down at the sidewalk.

"Heh. Nature reclaims us all, doesn't it?"

Nature in this case, was a fat pigeon waddling and pecking at a bagel that had been set on top of a garbage can rather than in it. Panning the device around, he found a multipurpose building and smiled, pulling out his cellphone and calling a number on it. On the second ring, his friend picked up.

"Hey man, what's up?"

"Rick, you said you worked in that glass building across from mine, right?"

"Uhhh, yeah, sure, why?"

"Stand up, I wanna see where you are."

"What the fuck?"

"Look, remember my uncle died and left me that telescope?"

"What does... oohhh, neat. Ok, hold on."

As Aaron watched, a figure stood up and waved it's arms.

"Hey, I see you."

"Cool. Look, just be careful man. I don't want other people in the building to call the cops about a peeping tom."

"Well, can you even see me from where you are?"

"I guess not."

"So there's no problem then."

"I guess..." Rick trailed off, then swore, "Shit, boss is coming, uh, see you at some point. Y'know, if this ever ends."

Rick hung up, leaving Aaron alone. Aaron sighed too and sat back, looking up at the ceiling. He fell asleep like that after a while, staring at nothing....

With a start, Aaron woke up, and groaned at the lancing pain in his neck from sleeping like that. He rolled his head, cracking the stressed joints and sighed in relief as they popped one by one. Shaking his head, he looked at the time. When he had called his friend, it had been about 7:00 in the evening, now it was 10:00, and much, much darker. He stood up and cracked his back, and was about to head to bed when he noticed that in Rick's building, there was a single light on. Smiling, he took the telescope and swung it until he was aimed right at it. If nothing else, he could peep at what other people were watching.

The building was multi purpose. The bottom ten floors were rented out to various businesses, and the upper ones were fancy apartments with large glass walls that offered sweeping views of the city. The light was on in one of these apartments. He peered around, but didn't see a tv that was on or anything. Just a woman sitting. A very pretty woman. From where he was, through the scope, he could see that she was blonde, had long legs, and was probably tall, but that was hard to gauge given the distance and the fact that she was sitting angled slightly away from him. The other thing he noticed that made him flush, was that she was only wearing a bra as far as he could tell. He was about to step away when he saw her double over. Tilting his head, he wondered what was up.

"Are you alright?" He wondered aloud, and adjusted the telescope, zooming in and adjusting the focus slightly. With a better view, he could see that her face, though pretty, was screwed up in intense pain. She stayed like that for a while, but eventually, and slowly, she straightened back up and stood up, rubbing... "Holy shit... Whoa!" The woman was pregnant. Hugely so. She was rubbing her massively swollen belly as she waddled back and forth in the luxury apartment. Eventually, he was able to break his gaze from her and shake his head clear. It was one thing he had never told anyone. He absolutely loved pregnancy. Every aspect. Every soft, filled out curve filled his dreams. But the one thing that drove him mad more than anything was birth. His watch history was filled with birth vlogs and the like, and some days he found it impossible to finish without hearing and watching a pregnant woman writhing and screaming as her own body fought itself.

He knew this was too good to be true, a hallucination. Aaron walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, and splashed his face. His face still damp, he returned to the chair and put his eye back to the scope, and there she was, in all her real, pregnant, and, hopefully, laboring glory. "Oh, you're definitely in labor." Aaron muttered to himself as she leaned over the back of her couch , her hips swaying. He obviously couldn't hear her, but if her locked open jaw and the redness of her face was anything to judge by, she was screaming in agony.

"Now, be a good girl and stay there for me?" He mused, hoping that she would remain in her apartment for this birth. With the world essentially on lockdown, he knew that many women were choosing to have homebirths. Hopefully, this woman was one of them. He watched her sway in place, leaning over the couch for a handful of contractions before she moved on from that position. She sat back in the chair, much to Aaron's disappointment. He couldn't see her when she was sitting there. He couldn't see what she was doing, but her arm was flexing and moving as if she was... "Oh, no way, no WAY!" He clamped his mouth shut. Aaron lived alone, but he figured that it being the middle of the night, he should be quiet. But what he had seen was one of the best things he could have hoped for. Was this unknown laboring woman, masturbating? Was she touching herself to relieve the pain of birth? He looked back through the lens and watched as she kept up her wriggling and shaking before she pulled her hand back up. He was only mildly disappointed that she was already done with that, but then realized she hadn't been masturbating at all! She held up her still dripping hand and held it up to examine. She was checking to see how dilated she was!

"Ooh, okay, now how far are you? Dang, it's hard to tell at this distance." Aaron fantasized about being in the room with the woman, holding her, rubbing her belly, listening to her moans and screams, smelling the thick scents of labor... But, here he was, a full block away, just watching. Her fingers were spread pretty far apart though, so there was a good chance she was pretty far dilated, if not all the way. But probably not as the woman flopped her head back, looking exhausted and exasperated. Aaron shook his head. "Oh come on, you can do it, women do this every day."

It was as if she heard him. She stood up and began pacing again, leaning back over the couch, but now, she did something else too. She would, with one hand supporting her by holding the couch, and the other hand pressed under her belly, she would lower herself into a deep squat, and she would slowly, clearly with a lot of effort, raise herself up again. Aaron watched her move and wait out her cervix for the next hour. Over the course of that hour, he had seen no one come or go from the apartment, not a partner, not a midwife, not even a pet. She was, as far as he could tell , completely alone while she labored. Surely she should have called for someone by now? If she wasn't fully dilated, she had to be close? Was she going to give birth alone? Mostly unseen? She stopped her moving and squatting and returned to the chair, checking herself again. This time, she seemed more relieved by the results, and moved to the floor.

The floor, Aaron could see, had been covered by a plastic sheet that shone in the lights of the city, which had towels strewn on top of it. They might have been laid out neatly earlier, but they had been mussed up by her pacing and squatting. She squatted again now, both hands rubbing her belly as she closed her eyes in preparation. After a minute, her belly tensed, and Aaron could see her gritting her teeth in effort, her face turning red and shaking from the effort. "Ooh, purple pushing, nice," Aaron said watching her. He was no doctor, but the amount of birth vlogs and labor stories he had watched had given him quite a wealth of knowledge to draw upon for this... private show. He knew that pushing the way she was wasn't going to be very effective. She was holding all the tension in her face, clenching too hard, and probably holding her breath. Smiling, he knew he was in for a long pushing phase.

Or rather, she was. It only took five contractions before her squatting position proved to be too tiring for her. She was semi-reclined now, still red faced and now she seemed to be constantly panting as she waited for contractions. "Oh, you're not doing yourself any favors, are you," Aaron muttered, enjoying the show. She seemed frustrated, possibly crying between contractions. Panting, she tensed up and curled around herself to push, but Aaron could see that it wasn't going to be any more successful from her last few attempts. Her legs were too close together, she was still holding the tension in her face, and he knew that while it might be more restful to be reclined like that, pushing on your back was actually a hinderance to birth. One more contraction on her back, and the woman seemed to realize this too, as she began the lumbering process of turning onto her side and getting her hands and knees under herself. Her ass and pussy pointed straight at Aaron, he watched as she rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

From behind, Aaron could only tell when the woman was having a contraction because she would either stop rocking, or at the very least slow down. His telescope was focused well enough that he could see fluid dripping from her vagina, but that was the only thing that did. It wasn't even bulging yet. He looked over his shoulder at the clock on the back of his stove. It was already 2:30, meaning that she had been pushing for about three hours now, with nothing to show for it. "Man, you are really bad at this," He said to himself, somewhat maliciously. This was shaping up to be much like his favorite birth vlogs, minus the sound of course. The mothers in those videos would push and push so hard, so desperately, only for little to no progress to be made. The vlogs where the time spent pushing was measured not by individual contractions or even by minutes, but by hours and hours. Given the complete lack of progress he could see, he assumed and hoped that she would have many more hours of pushing ahead of her.

He could well imagine it, her desperate panting, moaning, screaming and crying, the soft music she was probably playing, and the musty smell of her sweat and birthing fluids. The time was now 3:00 A.M. and he was still watching her, a handful of empty energy drink cans next to his chair. Meanwhile, the woman had eaten nothing, and had only had a few sips of water form a bottle near her. "Don't worry, I'll stay until you're done," Aaron muttered, shifting in his chair. The woman had changed positions twice in the last thirty minutes, rocking back to on her knees and then rolling onto her side, holding one leg up. He could see her belly tense up with every contraction, every push, each as beautifully helpless and useless as the last. "It's like you're not even trying, do you want to give birth or just stay like this forever?" The casual sadism in the comment sent a thrill down his spine as he watched. Aaron could only imagine what a blow to her confidence and energy such a comment would have if she could hear it.

3:30 rolled past. 4:00. 5:00. By 6:00, Aaron could finally see what the woman had possibly been feeling for a while. A small, dark sliver of head was just barely beginning to peep out of her red, swollen vagina. "There we are, just after... six and a half hours? Damn, you are really bad at this, and it's not even out yet." Aaron had hardly moved from his position since he had found the laboring woman. She on the other hand had been changing positions constantly, she had squatted again, stood up, laid back, knelt over the chair, and many more besides, but now, she was back to hands and knees. As she stopped pushing, the dark sliver of the end receded back into her vagina. He watched one of her hands flap behind her to desperately feel around her opening, but she slammed it back to the ground in front of her as she began to push again. He watch a swell of pressure seemingly roll down her tailbone as the head began it's emergence once again, the dark sliver appearing again, but again retreating once she stopped pushing.

Aaron found himself torn between rooting for her or hoping it would take longer as the war to get the baby's head out raged in the apartment. For nearly an additional thirty minutes she fought like a mad thing to get the head out, having now stood up and was leaning over the back of the chair, reach under and around her heaving belly to pull at her lips to try to make more room before the head started to stay down between pushes. The contractions must have been nearly constant now, as the head was going up and down, up and down without pause for most of that time. Her legs were stuck wide open by now, the head preventing her from moving them closed as she tried to move around, possibly to squat, or anything, but she seemed stuck, her back heaving with unheard sobs. He began to wish he was in the apartment, rubbing her back, holding her belly, possibly even helping her move to a more comfortable position while she birthed this baby.

But, he could only watch as her sobs paused while the next inevitable contraction forced her to push, her legs training to keep her upright as the head bulged out more and more... "That has to be full crown now, that's massive!" Aaron gasped to himself as he beheld the strain of her pussy. The head was huge, covered in hair and stretching the woman out considerably. The fact that she hadn't torn was incredible, and probably due to how long it had been taking her to get this far. But now it was just sitting there. Based on how the woman's belly was shaking and how the head was wiggling, she was probably sobbing from the pain. Aaron watched as she reached around to press a few fingers to her clit as she pushed again, but with no progress resulting from her effort. "This is no time to be quitting now, come on..." Aaron commented as he watched, Aware of light beginning to return to the sky.

"Well, that's not ideal." Aaron was only able to afford this apartment because the glare from the very building he was watching would reflect directly into every unit on this side of apartment complex. It was an inconvenience until about mid-morning, but it made it affordable. But today, it was more than inconvenient. It would completely prevent Aaron from watching further until damn near 11:00.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on..." Aaron urged, "You gotta finish in the next... 30 minutes." The woman, who obviously couldn't hear Aaron, did nothing to speed things up, just holding a hand to her clit and giving, in Aaron's opinion, fairly pathetic, little grunts of pushes rather than the full bore effort that would be needed to pop the head free. She gave another push, her head flopping back after as she sobbed inaudibly from a block away. Pressing her hand a bit more firmly to her clit, she rallied herself and pushed again, this time putting a little more effort into it. The head moved slightly, but not much.

Finally, as the glare was beginning to cut the show short, the head burst free with a gush of fluid, and the woman widened her stance, seemingly finally able to move her legs again, and she lumbered her way back down to the floor, getting to her knees, then rolling to her back, her spread legs exposing herself perfectly to Aaron. She reached around her body to hook her hands under her knees and hauled them back, curling up over her still heaving belly and pushing, one last time...