#birthkink

(Warning: long texts, 13k words. Kinky content)

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He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think.

His body was frozen against the rough bark of the pine tree, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding in the clearing below. The morning sun cast long shadows across the forest floor, and the air was thick with the scent of blood and pine. Three bodies lay scattered across the grass, broken and bleeding. Three men who had been legends in their own right. Three men he had feared his entire life.

And she had destroyed them.

Iron-Mountain Wang. The Serpent. The Scorpion. He had heard their names whispered in the darkest corners of the underworld, had crossed the street to avoid them, had known that even if he trained for another ten years, he would never be able to match their skill. And she had dismantled them like they were nothing. Like they were children playing at swords.

He remembered the first time he had seen her. Months ago, when her belly was just a gentle curve and he had been foolish enough to think he could bully her. He and his men had cornered her in a warehouse, confident, swaggering. And she had destroyed them. All of them. With the same casual grace she had just displayed.

She had broken his ribs. She had shattered his pride. She had looked down at him with those calm, unbothered eyes and said a single word. "Leave."

He had crawled away that day, his dignity in ruins, his men unconscious around him. And he had spent every moment since then burning with shame. Burning for revenge.

But now, watching her sit in the grass, her hand resting on her enormous belly, her face calm and serene despite the blood on her robes, he knew the truth. He would never have his revenge. He would never be able to face her. She was beyond him. Beyond anyone.

She was the Jade Shadow. The greatest martial artist in the country. A woman who could kill with her bare hands, who could move like water and strike like thunder. And she had just proven, in the most brutal way possible, that even three of the most feared men in the underworld were no match for her.

It had happened so fast, yet so deliberate. The three men circled her like wolves, their movements coordinated, weapons flashing. Wang came first with his massive axe, but she swayed aside, her enormous belly shifting with the motion. The twins attacked from both sides, but she deflected one blade with her forearm and twisted away from the other, her foot forcing the Scorpion back.

For what felt like an eternity, they pressed her hard. Wang's axe swung in a relentless barrage while the twins darted in and out, looking for openings. But she was too fast, too precise. She ducked under a wild swing, her palm cracking against Wang's wrist. His axe clattered to the ground. She spun, caught the Serpent's blade between her palms, and twisted it from his grasp. The Scorpion lunged, but her knee drove into his side, sending him staggering.

The battle stretched on, minute after minute, as she slowly turned the tide. Wang charged again, rage twisting his face, but she sidestepped and drove her palm into his ribs, the crack of bone echoing through the clearing. The Serpent tried to flee, but she caught him by the collar and twisted his arm at an impossible angle. The Scorpion crawled for his fallen sword, but her foot connected with his knee in a sickening crunch. After nearly ten minutes, all three lay on the ground, groaning in agony, their limbs shattered, their fighting days over forever.

She stood in the center of the clearing, her chest heaving, a sheen of sweat on her brow. She pressed her hand against her enormous belly, taking slow, deep breaths to steady herself. She was tired, yes. Anyone would be after fighting three legends of the underworld. But there was no weakness in her posture, no vulnerability in her eyes. She had won. Convincingly. Decisively. And the broken men crawling away from her could only weep at the years of training that had been destroyed in just a few short minutes.

The tension slowly bled from her shoulders as she watched them disappear into the treeline. She let out a long, shuddering breath, and her hand moved from her belly to the small of her back, pressing against the ache that had been building there. She stood there for a long moment, gathering herself, her eyes closed, her face tilted toward the warming sun.

He watched her stroke her belly, her fingers tracing slow circles through the fabric of her robes. Her face softened, and a gentle smile crossed her lips.

"Shh, little one. It's alright. Mama is fine. Those bad men are gone now."

She laughed softly, as if sharing a private joke with the life inside her. The sound was gentle, loving, utterly incongruous with the groans of the broken men crawling away from the clearing.

He watched her, frozen in place, his body trembling. She was so calm, so loving, so completely unbothered by what had just happened. As if fighting three of the most dangerous men in the underworld was just another chore, another ordinary task.

His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might tear itself apart. Sweat poured off him in rivers, soaking through his tunic, dripping into his eyes. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he looked down at them, at the cheap sword still clutched in his grip, and he knew he was nothing. He had always been nothing.

She started to walk slowly, her hand pressing against the small of her back, and began to gather her scattered herbs. The broken men were crawling away now, dragging their shattered limbs, their faces twisted with pain and disbelief. They would never fight again. Years of training, decades of skill, all gone.

She didn't watch them leave. She just continued her work, moving through the clearing with that same damnable grace, her enormous belly swaying gently with each step.

He couldn't take it anymore. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed against the tree, his body wracked with silent sobs. The tears came unbidden, hot and shameful, streaming down his cheeks. He was terrified. He was humiliated. He was broken.

The truth was clear now, as bitter as poison on his tongue. He would never be able to face her. Not now. Not ever. The Jade Shadow was untouchable, invincible, and he was nothing but a frightened mouse who had been too stupid to stay in his hole.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself away from the tree. His legs were trembling, his body weak with fear, but he forced himself to move. He took one step back into the forest, then another. His eyes never left her, watching as she disappeared into the cabin, as the door closed behind her.

He crawled through the forest like a wounded animal, his body moving on instinct while his mind churned with bitter poison. The trees blurred past him, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, clawing at his tattered robes. He didn't know how long he'd been walking. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the burning in his chest, the rage that had curdled into something darker, something uglier.

She defeated them. Three of the most dangerous men in the martial world. And she did it while carrying a child. She did it while laughing, while cooing at her unborn spawn like it was a game.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until they drew blood. The pain was a distant thing, a dull throb beneath the roaring inferno of his humiliation. He had watched her fight, had seen her grace and power, had witnessed the casual brutality with which she'd dismembered those men. And he had done nothing. He had hidden in the shadows like a coward, trembling and weeping like a child.

What am I? he thought, the question searing through his mind like a brand. What have I become?

He had been a man once. A respected man, feared in his own circle. He had commanded others, had ruled with an iron fist. But that man was dead now, murdered by a woman with a swollen belly and eyes like polished jade. The woman in that cabin had taken everything from him—his pride, his reputation, his very sense of self. And she hadn't even tried. She had simply... existed, and he had crumbled before her.

The forest began to thin, and he found himself on a winding dirt path that led back toward the village. The sun was high now, casting dappled shadows across the ground, and the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. He stopped walking, his chest heaving, and leaned against a gnarled old tree.

I have to let it go, he told himself. I have to accept it. She is beyond me. She will always be beyond me.

But even as the thought formed, he knew it was a lie. He couldn't let it go. The bitterness was too deep, the wound too fresh. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, heard her voice, felt the phantom impact of her palm against his chest. She had broken him, and he would never be whole again.

He walked through the forest, his steps heavy with defeat, the bitter taste of humiliation still fresh in his mouth. The trees thinned as he approached the path that led back to the village, and he paused, leaning against a gnarled oak to catch his breath. He was exhausted, drained of all emotion, his body aching from hours of silent vigil.

That was when he saw her.

An old woman was making her way up the path, her back bent like a willow, her steps slow and deliberate. She leaned heavily on a gnarled walking stick, a worn bag slung over her shoulder. He watched her pass, too lost in his own misery to care, and she disappeared into the deeper forest without acknowledging him.

Curiosity pricked at him, dull but persistent. What could an old woman possibly want in these woods? The path led nowhere except to the cabin. To her. To the Jade Shadow.

He waited, his body still pressed against the tree, his eyes fixed on the path. The minutes stretched, each one an eternity. He could feel the old familiar bitterness beginning to stir in his chest, the poison of his obsession seeping back into his veins. He tried to push it down, tried to remember his resolve to let it all go. But the thought of her, of the cabin, of everything he had witnessed, was like a wound that wouldn't heal.

After what felt like half an hour, the old woman reappeared, shuffling back down the path. She moved slower now, her steps more labored, as if the journey had taken something out of her. He stepped out from behind the tree, blocking her path.

She stopped, her rheumy eyes widening with alarm. "Please, sir," she quavered. "I mean no harm. I'm just a poor old woman, on my way back to the village."

His eyes narrowed. "What business does an old woman like you have in these woods? There's nothing here but bandits and wild beasts."

She hesitated, her gaze darting nervously. "I... I was visiting someone. A woman. She lives alone in the wood, and she's with child. I've been checking on her from time to time."

He studied her worn bag, the herbs tied to her belt. "You're a midwife?"

She nodded slowly, her grip tightening on her walking stick. "Yes, sir. I am. The woman, she's very close now. The babe will be here soon, within the next week."

His heart quickened, but he kept his voice steady. "And how will you know when? When the time comes?"

"I'll come every morning from now on," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Every day, I'll make the journey to check on her. That way, I'll be there when the labor begins."

A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. Every morning. Every day. She would be coming here, to the cabin. And he would be watching. Waiting.

"You will not come here anymore," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You will not check on her. You will forget this cabin exists."

The old woman stared at him, her face pale. "But sir... she needs me. Without me, the birth could be very difficult. Dangerous, even."

"I don't care," he said flatly. "She humiliated me. She broke me. And now, she will suffer alone."

"Please," she begged, her voice cracking with emotion. "I can't just abandon a woman in need. It's my duty to help. Please, have mercy."

His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "If you come here again, if you help her in any way, I will find you. I will find your family. I will burn your house to the ground with everyone inside it. Do you understand?"

The old woman's face crumpled. She closed her eyes, and the tears came. "I understand," she sobbed, her voice barely audible. "I won't come."

He studied her for a moment, watching the tears stream down her wrinkled cheeks, watching the weight of her decision settle on her shoulders. He felt nothing. No pity. No remorse. Only a cold, dark satisfaction.

"Good," he said, stepping aside. "Now get out of my sight."

She shuffled past him, her body trembling, her steps heavy. He watched her disappear down the path, and the bitterness in his chest began to shift. It was still there, a cold knot of hatred and shame. But now it was tempered by something else. Something dark, twisted. The hunt was far from over. It was only just beginning.

Three days had passed since he'd threatened the midwife. Three days of watching, waiting, his body growing thin and his mind growing sharp with obsession. He had barely slept, surviving on scraps of dried meat and water from a nearby stream. His clothes were torn, his skin was pale, and his eyes had taken on a feverish gleam that spoke of something broken inside him.

But he didn't care. All that mattered was the cabin. All that mattered was her.

On the fourth morning, something changed.

He had taken his position before dawn, as always, his body pressed into the familiar hollow of the thorny thicket. The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of dew-soaked earth and pine. He watched the cabin with hungry eyes, waiting for her to emerge as she always did, moving through her morning routine with that infuriating grace.

But the door didn't open.

The sun rose higher, climbing past the treetops and spilling golden light across the clearing. Still, the door remained closed. He shifted restlessly, his muscles cramping from hours of stillness. Had she left during the night? Had she sensed him and fled? The thought sent a spike of panic through his chest.

Then, finally, the door creaked open.

She stepped out, and immediately he knew something was different.

Her movements were still graceful, still fluid, but there was an oddness to them, a hesitancy that hadn't been there before. She walked slowly, her hand resting on her belly, her steps careful and deliberate. She didn't head for the garden or the woodpile or the well. She simply... walked. Around and around the cabin, her path a slow, meandering circle.

He watched, confused, his brow furrowing. What was she doing? Why wasn't she working? He had never seen her behave like this, never seen her waste a moment of daylight on aimless wandering.

She paused at the door and ducked inside, emerging a few moments later with a bundle of clean cloth over her arm. She carried it to a small table she'd set up outside, along with a basin of water and a small pot of something that steamed in the morning air.

He tilted his head, his confusion deepening. What was all this for? He had never cared about childbirth before, had never been present at a birth, had never given the matter a moment's thought. The cloth, the water, the fire—it meant nothing to him. It was just... stuff. Useless, meaningless stuff.

But then he noticed the hiccup.

She was walking again, her steps slow and measured, when she suddenly froze. Her body went rigid, her hand pressing hard against her belly, and her breath caught in her throat. It lasted only a moment—a heartbeat, no more—and then she continued walking as if nothing had happened.

But he had seen it. He had seen the way her face tightened, the way her eyes flickered with something that might have been pain. She was uncomfortable. She was trying to hide it, but her body was betraying her.

She's in labor, he thought, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. It's happening. It's finally happening.

A slow, terrible smile spread across his face. It started. Start to hurt, doesn't it?

He watched her more closely now, his eyes sharp and gleaming. She continued her slow circuit of the cabin, but there were more hiccups now, more pauses. Each time, she would stop, her hand pressing against her belly, her face growing taut with strain. She would take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and then continue as if nothing had happened.

His heart began to race, his blood thrumming with dark excitement. He leaned forward, his fingers digging into the earth, his eyes fixed on her like a hawk watching its prey.

Throughout the morning, the discomfort grew. He could see it in the way she moved, the way her strides grew shorter, more careful. She kept walking, kept moving, her hand never straying far from her belly. But there was no hiding it now. Her face, usually so calm and unreadable, was beginning to show the strain.

She paused again, this time leaning against the cabin wall. Her head bowed, her shoulders hunched, and he saw her lips move in a silent prayer—or perhaps a curse. She stayed like that for a long moment, her body trembling slightly, before she pushed herself upright and continued her circuit.

He laughed, a low, cruel sound that was swallowed by the rustle of leaves. That's right. Keep walking. Keep pretending everything is fine. But we both know the truth, don't we?

As the sun climbed toward midday, the discomfort became something more. She stopped walking and stood in the center of the clearing, her legs braced apart, her hands gripping her belly. Her face was pale, beaded with sweat, and her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps.

She looked toward the path, her eyes scanning the treeline with desperate intensity. He followed her gaze, knowing exactly what she was looking for. The midwife. The old woman she'd trusted to help her through this. The old woman who would never come.

He felt a surge of dark satisfaction, so powerful it made him dizzy. She's waiting, he thought. She's waiting for help that isn't coming. Help that I made sure would never come. Oh, this is beautiful. This is perfect.

She turned away from the path, her face a mask of controlled pain. She walked back to the table, her steps slower now, more labored. She dipped a cloth in the basin of water and pressed it to her forehead, her eyes closed, her jaw tight.

And then it happened.

She froze, her body going rigid, and a low, guttural moan escaped her lips. “Nghhh.” It was the first sound of pain he had heard from her, the first crack in her iron composure. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated agony, a sound that seemed to echo through the clearing like a death knell.

He watched her face contort, her eyes squeezing shut, her teeth grinding together. Her hands clawed at her belly, her fingers digging into the fabric of her robes as if she could somehow ease the pain by sheer force of will. The moan stretched on, a long, shuddering cry that seemed to come from the very depths of her being.

And he laughed.

It was a quiet laugh, barely more than a whisper, but it was filled with all the bitterness and hatred and dark joy that had been building in his chest for months. He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming, his lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"Just getting started," he murmured, his voice soft and dripping with malice. "This is just the beginning, Jade Shadow. You think this hurts? You haven't seen anything yet. You have no idea what's coming. No idea at all."

She straightened slowly, her body trembling, her breath ragged. She pressed her hand to her belly, her eyes still squeezed shut, and he could see the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Tears of pain. Tears of fear.

He soaked them in, savoring every drop.

Suffer, he thought, the word a prayer in his twisted mind. Suffer for what you did to me. Suffer for every moment of humiliation. Suffer for every sleepless night. Suffer until there's nothing left. Suffer until you're broken, just like me.

She began to walk again, her steps slow and uncertain. She headed for the cabin, her hand pressed against the wall for support. The cabin door had been left wide open, as if she was too consumed by her suffering to care about privacy. He had crept closer, emboldened by her pain, and found a spot just at the edge of the clearing where he could see everything inside. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the walls. The table of supplies sat untouched. And in the center of it all, she moved through her agony like a wounded animal.

He watched, his eyes gleaming with dark pleasure.

She was walking again, her bare feet padding across the wooden floor. Her steps were slow, hesitant, each one a small victory over the waves of pain that crashed through her body. She reached the wall and pressed her palm against it, her head bowed, her shoulders heaving.

"Nghhh..." A low groan escaped her lips, barely audible. "Uurgh..."

He leaned forward, his breath catching. Yes. Yes, that's it. Let me hear it.

She pushed herself upright and continued walking, her hand never leaving her belly. She made it two steps before the pain seized her again. She froze, her body going rigid, and this time the sound that escaped her was louder, more desperate.

"UURGHH... NGHHH..."

Her hands flew to her back, pressing hard against the base of her spine. She arched backward, pushing her enormous belly forward, thrusting it out like an offering to some cruel god. Her head tilted up toward the ceiling, her eyes squeezed shut, and her mouth opened wide.

"AAAAHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

The scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, a sound of pure, unadulterated agony. It echoed through the cabin, through the clearing, through the forest itself. The birds in the trees fell silent, startled by the sound.

He watched her belly, that great, heavy sphere, thrust forward and impossibly prominent in her arched pose. It seemed to grow with each scream, a mountain of flesh that dwarfed the rest of her body. Look at that, he thought, his lips curling into a cruel smile. Look at that thing. How is it ever going to fit? How is it ever going to come out?

She lowered her head, gasping for breath, her body trembling. She moved to a wooden bar that had been fixed to the wall, some sort of support she had prepared for this moment. She gripped it with both hands, her knuckles white, and bent at the hips, pushing her hips backward slightly.

Her belly hung low, heavy and pendulous, swaying with the movement. She began to sway her hips from side to side, a slow, rhythmic motion, desperately trying to ease the pressure building inside her. Her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Uurgh... uuungh..." she moaned, her voice catching with each sway.

He watched her hips move, watched the way her belly swung from side to side, and felt a surge of dark satisfaction. You're doing all this work, and for what? There's no one coming to help you. No one at all.

She straightened slowly, her hands still gripping the bar, and began to walk again. She made it to the bed, a simple pallet of straw and blankets, and collapsed onto it. Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, and she lay there, her chest heaving, her face slick with sweat.

And then she began to remove her pants.

He held his breath, his eyes widening. He had been waiting and hoping for this. The fabric of her robes bunched around her waist as she struggled with the ties, her fingers clumsy and shaking. Finally, she managed to push them down, revealing her legs—powerful, thick with muscle, the kind of legs that could kick a man through a wall.

He watched as she kicked the pants away with a sharp motion, the fabric flying across the room. He flinched involuntarily, his body remembering the force of those legs. She lay on the bed, her belly rising like a mountain above her, and began to position herself. One leg lay flat on the mattress, limp and trembling. The other bent at the knee, her foot planted on the bed. He watched those powerful legs, the same legs that had once sent men flying, now reduced to trembling helplessness. The irony was almost too much to bear, and he felt a surge of dark satisfaction. All that strength, and now she couldn't even keep them still.

"Uurgh... nghhh..." she moaned, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut.

He leaned forward, his heart pounding. And then she did it. She opened her legs.

He had never seen a woman like this before. Never seen the intimate secrets of a woman's body laid bare. He had been with women before, but never like this. Never so open, so exposed. He held his breath, his eyes fixed on the space between her legs.

Her vagina was swollen and puffy, the flesh engorged and glistening wet in the firelight. In the center of it all, a narrow slit parted slightly, revealing the dark, secret depths within. The slickness spoke of her body's desperate preparation, the flesh stretched and ready, waiting for what was to come.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. It was so small. So impossibly, unbelievably narrow. And above it, her belly rose like a mountain, huge and heavy, the child within pressing down with all its weight.

He laughed, filled with all the cruel amusement that had been building in his chest. "Look at that," he murmured, his voice soft and mocking. "So small. So narrow. And look at that belly. Look at how huge it is. How are you going to squeeze something that big out of something that small?"

She moaned again, a low, desperate sound, and he watched her legs open and close, open and close, a rhythm born of agony and instinct as she began to sway it from side to side. The motion was slow, almost hypnotic, a gentle rocking that seemed to ease the pressure in her hips.

Each time she opened them, he saw that swollen, wet slit, that narrow parting that seemed so inadequate for the task ahead.

"Open," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. "Close. Open. Close. It doesn't matter how many times you do it. It's never going to be enough. You're never going to fit that thing through there."

She cried out again, a sharp, piercing scream that made him flinch despite himself. "MURGHH! AAAAAHHH!"

He watched her arch her back, watched her belly rise even higher, and felt a surge of dark satisfaction. Suffer, he thought. Suffer for everything you did to me. Suffer for every moment of humiliation. Suffer until there's nothing left.

She turned her head toward the door, her eyes wild and desperate, and screamed, "LADY LIN! WHERE ARE YOU? WHERE ARE YOU?"

He laughed quietly again. "She's not coming," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "She's never coming. You're alone, Jade Shadow. You're all alone."

He settled back into his hiding spot, his eyes fixed on her suffering. The day was still young. The pain was only just beginning.

And he would be there to watch every moment of it.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the clearing, the golden light filtering through the trees and painting stripes across the cabin floor. The hours had crawled by, each one more agonizing than the last, and the air inside the cabin had grown thick with the heat of her labor. She was on the bed, her body writhing, her hands gripping the rough blankets. Her hair had come undone, plastered to her face with sweat. Her robes were bunched around her waist, leaving her naked from the waist down. And her belly, that huge, impossible belly, rose like a mountain above her.

"Uurgh... uungh... nghhh..." Her moans were constant now, a low, rhythmic soundtrack to her agony.

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as she shifted on the bed. She rolled onto her side, her body curling around her belly. One hand reached down and grabbed her knee, pulling it high and close to her chest. The other leg remained bent but flat against the mattress.

The position made her belly rise at a sharp angle, thrusting it forward, making it look even more enormous than before. And there, in the space between her legs, he could see her vagina. Swollen. Wet. The narrow slit parted slightly, glistening in the firelight.

She took a deep breath, her chest heaving, and then she pushed.

"UUURRRGHHHH!"

The sound tore from her throat, raw and desperate. Her face contorted, her eyes squeezed shut, her teeth grinding together. Her body tensed, every muscle straining. He leaned forward, his breath catching, his eyes fixed on that narrow slit.

Nothing happened.

The flesh parted slightly, a tiny, almost imperceptible opening. But there was nothing there. No head. No crown. Just that wet, swollen flesh, straining against nothing.

He laughed. "Ha. Look at that. All that effort, and nothing. Absolutely nothing. You're pushing, and nothing is coming out."

She collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath. Her chest heaved, her belly rising and falling with each ragged inhale. Sweat dripped from her brow, pooling in the hollow of her throat. She looked exhausted, utterly spent.

"Uurgh... nghhh..." she moaned, her hand pressing against her belly.

She shifted again, rolling onto her back. Both legs spread wide, bent at the knee, her feet planted on the mattress. Her belly rose high, a great, heavy sphere that seemed to dwarf her entire body.

She pushed again.

"AAAAHHHH! NGHHHH! UURGHHH!"

Her body arched, her hands gripping the blankets, her face a mask of pure agony. He watched her vagina, watched that narrow slit part slightly, watched the flesh stretch and strain. But still, nothing. Just that tiny opening, wet and swollen, but empty.

He laughed again, louder this time. "Nothing. Still nothing. You're going to be at this all day, aren't you? All night, maybe. Maybe forever."

She collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body shook with the effort, with the pain, with the sheer, overwhelming exhaustion.

"I can't... I can't..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

But then the contraction came again, and her face contorted. She rolled onto her other side, her body curling around her belly. She pulled her knee high, close to her chest, her hand gripping it with desperate strength.

"UURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

She pushed again, her body straining, her face purple with effort. He watched, his eyes gleaming, as her vagina parted slightly. A tiny bit more this time, perhaps. But still nothing. Still just that narrow slit, wet and swollen, but empty.

He was enjoying this more than he had ever enjoyed anything in his life. The sight of her, the Jade Shadow, the most feared martial artist in the country, reduced to this. A writhing, screaming, desperate mess. Her body betraying her. Her strength useless. Her grace gone.

She collapsed again, her body heaving with sobs. "Please... someone... anyone..."

He leaned forward, his voice a low, cruel whisper. "No one's coming, Jade Shadow. No one at all. You're all alone."

Perhaps she just realized the truth of it. Her eyes, wild and desperate, scanned the room. The empty fire. The untouched supplies. The open door. She looked down at her belly, at that huge, impossible mountain of flesh, and for the first time, he saw something new in her eyes.

Fear.

It was there, just for a moment, a flicker of terror that crossed her face like a shadow. Her hand pressed against her belly, her fingers trembling. She looked so small, so vulnerable, so utterly helpless.

He felt a surge of dark satisfaction, so powerful it made him dizzy. Yes. Yes, that's it. Fear. You're afraid. You're actually afraid. You, the Jade Shadow, the woman who destroyed three men without breaking a sweat. You're afraid.

But then the contraction came again, and the fear was gone, replaced by pure, primal agony.

"UUURRRGGHHH! NGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

Her body arched, her hands gripping her knees, her face contorted. She pushed with everything she had, her muscles straining, her veins bulging. He watched her vagina, watched it part slightly, saw the flesh stretch and strain.

But still, nothing.

She collapsed, gasping, sobbing, her body shaking with the effort. She pressed her hand to her belly, her eyes closed, her lips moving in a silent prayer.

He settled back into his hiding spot, a wide, cruel smile on his face. The day was growing long. The sun was beginning to set. And still, she struggled. Still, she pushed. Still, she suffered.

This is it, he thought, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. This is my revenge. Not defeating you. Not killing you. This. Watching you. Watching you suffer. Watching you break. You're so pathetic now, aren't you? So weak. So helpless. All that power, all that grace, and look at you now. A cow in labor, moaning and pushing, too weak to even bring your own child into the world. This is so much better than anything I could have imagined. You deserve this. Every moment of it.

She rolled onto her side again, her body curling around her belly. She pulled her knee high, close to her chest, and began to push. Her face contorted, her body straining, her voice a raw, desperate scream.

"UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

He watched, his eyes gleaming, his smile widening. And in that moment, he was satisfied. Completely, utterly, perfectly satisfied.

The Jade Shadow was suffering. And he was there to see it all.

The hours crawled by like wounded animals, each one more agonizing than the last. The sun had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the cabin floor. The fire had died down to embers, and the room was growing dim. But he could still see everything. Every detail. Every desperate movement.

She was still on the bed, her body wracked with pain, her voice hoarse from screaming. Her hair was a tangled mess, plastered to her face and neck with sweat. Her robes were soaked through, clinging to her body. And her belly, that huge, impossible belly, still rose above her like a mountain.

"Uurgh... nghhh... uungh..."

Her moans were constant now, a low, rhythmic sound that filled the cabin. She pushed, her body straining, her face contorted. And then, when the contraction faded, her hands moved down between her legs.

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as her fingers probed at her vagina. She was checking, he realized. Checking to see if anything had changed. Checking to see if the baby was coming.

Not so fast, Jade Shadow. Not so fast.

Her fingers came away wet and empty. She stared at them, her eyes wide and desperate. There was no sign of progress. Just that same swollen, wet flesh, still parted in that narrow slit.

She pressed her hand to her belly, her fingers trembling. "Please," she whispered, her voice cracked and raw. "Little one. Please come out... I can't do this alone. I can't..."

Oh, but you have to. There's no one else coming. No one at all.

She seemed to feel the weight of her solitude pressing down on her. Her eyes, wild and desperate, scanned the room. The empty fire. The untouched supplies. The open door. And there, in the deepening shadows, she saw only emptiness.

She looked down at her belly again, and he saw it. Clear as day. Disappointment. Worry. The first cracks in her iron composure.

"Please," she begged, her voice breaking. "just come out."

Begging now, are we? The great Jade Shadow, begging her unborn child to come out. This is priceless. This is absolutely priceless.

She pushed again, her body arching, her hands gripping her knees. "UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

Her face was purple with effort, her veins bulging, her teeth grinding together. He watched her vagina, watched that narrow slit part and strain. And then, finally, something changed.

There was a tiny, dark curve. A sliver of something that hadn't been there before. He leaned forward, his breath catching, his eyes widening.

The baby's head. It was the baby's head.

She must have felt it too, because her hands flew down between her legs, her fingers probing at the opening. A sound escaped her throat, half-sob, half-laugh. "Yes... yes... it's coming... it's coming..."

But then the contraction faded, and she collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath. Her hands remained between her legs, and he saw her fingers press against that tiny curve. She was trying to hold it there, trying to keep it from retreating.

But it was no use.

The tiny curve disappeared, swallowed back into the darkness of her body. Her fingers came away empty, and she stared at them, her face a mask of pure, unadulterated panic.

"No... no, no, no, no, no..." She pushed herself up, her body trembling. "It was there... it was right there... please don't go back in... baby, please"

She pushed again, her body straining, her voice a raw, desperate scream. "UUURRRGGHHHH! COME OUT! COME OUT!"

The head appeared again, that tiny dark curve, emerging just a fraction. But no matter how hard she pushed, it wouldn't come any further. It stayed there, a sliver of progress, teasing her with the promise of relief.

And then, when she released and breathed, it retreated back inside. Completely. Utterly. As if it had never been there at all.

She let out a sound that was half-sob, half-scream. "NO! NO! COME BACK! COME BACK!"

Ha! Look at that. It comes out, and then it goes right back in. It doesn't want to come out, Jade Shadow. It's comfortable in there. It doesn't want to leave.

She pushed again, her body straining, her face contorted. "UUURRRGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

The head appeared. A tiny sliver. And then, when she released, it retreated.

Again. And again. And again.

Each time, the head would emerge just a fraction, teasing her with the promise of progress. And each time, when she relaxed, it would retreat back inside. It was a cruel game, a vicious cycle that left her exhausted and desperate.

By the fifth time, she was sobbing openly, her body heaving with the effort. "Please... baby... come out... I can't do this... I need you to come out. Please..."

He watched her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. This was better than anything he could have imagined. The great Jade Shadow, the woman who had humiliated him, who had broken him, who had made him feel like less than nothing. She was crying. She was begging. She was utterly, completely broken.

Beg. Beg for your baby to come out. Beg for help that will never come. This is what you deserve, Jade Shadow. This is what you've earned.

She pushed again, her body arching, her voice a raw, desperate scream. "UUURRRGGGHHHH! NGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

The head appeared. A tiny sliver. And then, when she released, it retreated.

She collapsed onto the bed, sobbing, her body shaking. "I can't... I can't do this..."

Oh, but you will. You'll do this all night if you have to. You'll push and push and push, and that baby will keep going in and out, in and out, until you're nothing but a broken, pathetic mess.

She didn't respond. She just lay there, her body wracked with sobs, her hands pressed against her belly. The fear was clear in her eyes now, the worry, the desperation. She was no longer the Jade Shadow. She was just a woman, alone and terrified, facing the most difficult moment of her life.

And he was there to see it all. Silent. Watching. His cruel laughter echoing only in the dark recesses of his twisted mind.

The sun had fully set now, casting the cabin into near darkness, lit only by the dying embers of the fire and the pale glow of the moon filtering through the open door. She was still on the bed, her body wracked with pain, her voice reduced to hoarse whimpers. She had been pushing for hours, and she had nothing left. No strength. No hope. No dignity.

He watched her from the shadows, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. She was broken. Utterly, completely broken. The great Jade Shadow, the woman who had humiliated him, who had made him feel like less than nothing, was reduced to this. A writhing, sobbing mess, her body betraying her at every turn.

And he realized, with a surge of dark joy, that she couldn't do anything to him. She was too weak, too exhausted, too consumed by her agony. She couldn't fight him. She couldn't even stand. She was completely, utterly helpless.

He rose from his hiding spot, his body stiff from hours of stillness. He walked toward the cabin, his footsteps soft on the damp earth. The door was still open, and he stepped through it, crossing the threshold into her space.

She heard him. Her head turned, her eyes wild and desperate, and she saw him standing there in the doorway. Her face went pale, then flushed bright red with embarrassment. She immediately closed her legs, to hide herself from his gaze.

He laughed. A low, cruel sound that echoed through the cabin.

"Still have dignity, huh? Look at you. The great Jade Shadow. The most feared martial artist in the country. And here you are, legs spread, naked as the day you were born, trying to hide from me."

She glared at him, her eyes burning with hatred. "Get out," she hissed, her voice hoarse and weak. "Get out of here. Now."

He laughed again, stepping closer. "Or what? You'll fight me? You can barely lift your head. You think you can do anything to me? You couldn't even push your own baby out. What makes you think you can push me out?"

"Get out!" she screamed, the sound raw and desperate. But her body was trembling, her muscles screaming in protest.

He walked closer, stopping just at the foot of the bed. He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming, a cruel smile on his face. "You're pathetic, you know that? All that power, all that grace, and look at you now. You can't even hide from a pathetic thug like me."

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a contraction seized her. Her face contorted, her body arching, and a scream tore from her throat.

"UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

She tried to hold it back. Her jaw clenched, her teeth grinding together as she fought against the overwhelming pressure building inside her. Her legs squeezed shut, muscles straining, her entire body rigid with the effort of maintaining what little dignity she had left. Her face was a mask of desperate resistance, veins bulging on her forehead, her eyes squeezed tight.

But the pressure was too much. The pain was too much. Her body betrayed her, and her legs flew open, spreading wide, completely exposing herself to him. Her face crumpled in defeat, a sob escaping her lips as she gave in to the primal instinct that demanded she open, push, release. Dignity meant nothing now. Only survival. Only the burning, screaming need to get the baby out.

He laughed, the sound filling the cabin. "There it is. There it is. Look at you. Look at that huge belly. Look at that tiny slit. You really think you're going to push a baby out of that? You really think you have the strength?"

She moaned, her body writhing on the bed. "Nghhh... uuungh... please..."

"Please what?" he mocked, leaning closer. "Please help you? Please leave? Please stop watching you suffer? No. No, I'm going to watch. I'm going to watch every single moment of this. I'm going to watch you push and push and push, and nothing comes out. I'm going to watch you suffer, just like you made me suffer."

She pushed again, her body straining, her face contorted. "UUURRRGGGHHHH! NGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

He watched her vagina, watched that narrow slit part and strain. The baby's head appeared, just a sliver, and then retreated back inside when she released. It was the same cruel cycle, the same vicious game.

He laughed, the sound harsh and mocking. "Where is your strength, Jade Shadow? Where is your power? You destroyed three of the most dangerous men in the martial world, and you can't even push a baby out. You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the sweat that covered her body. "Stop... please..."

"Stop?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Why would I stop? This is the best show I've ever seen. The great Jade Shadow, completely exposed, completely helpless, completely broken. I wouldn't miss this for anything."

She tried to close her legs again, tried to hide from his gaze. But the contraction came again, and her body betrayed her. Her legs flew open, her back arched, and she pushed with everything she had.

"UUURRRGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as that tiny dark curve appeared and retreated. Appeared and retreated. Over and over again, a cruel dance of hope and despair.

"This is your revenge," he said, his voice soft and venomous. "This is what you deserve. You humiliated me. You broke me. You made me feel like less than nothing. And now, I get to watch you suffer. I get to watch you break. I get to watch you become nothing."

She sobbed, her body shaking, her hands pressed against her belly. "Please... I can't... I can't do this..."

"Oh, but you will," he said, leaning closer. "You'll do this all night if you have to. You'll push and push and push, and nothing will come out. And I'll be here, watching every single moment. Watching you suffer. Watching you break. Watching you become exactly what you made me."

She pushed again, her voice a raw, desperate scream. "UUURRRGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

The baby's head appeared. A tiny sliver. And then, when she released, it retreated.

He laughed, the sound echoing through the cabin. "There it is. There it goes. In and out. In and out. Just like you, Jade Shadow. Just like you."

The contraction finally released her, and she collapsed back onto the bed, gasping for breath. Her body was trembling, her face slick with sweat and tears. But even now, even in this state, she found the strength to glare at him.

"Get out," she hissed, her voice hoarse but defiant. "Get out of here. I don't want you here. I don't need you here."

He raised an eyebrow, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Oh, you don't? You don't need me here? Look at you, Jade Shadow. You can barely move. You can barely breathe. You've been pushing for hours, and nothing has come out. And you're telling me you don't need me?"

"Get out!" she screamed, the sound raw and desperate. "I'd rather die than have you watch me like this!"

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "Die? Oh, you might. You might die. That baby might die. And all because you were too proud to accept help. All because you couldn't swallow your pride for just one moment."

She opened her mouth to respond, but another contraction seized her. Her body arched, her face contorted, and a scream tore from her throat.

"UUURRRGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

He watched her push, watched her vagina part and strain, watched the baby's head appear and then retreat. The same cruel cycle. The same vicious game.

When the contraction faded, she collapsed back onto the bed, sobbing. He stood there, watching her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

Then he spoke, his voice soft and venomous. "You know what? I think I will leave. I think I'll let you deal with this alone. Let you push and push and push until you have nothing left. Let you suffer until you're completely out of strength. And then, when you're lying there, broken and desperate, you'll wish I was still here. You'll wish I had stayed to help you."

He turned, making a show of walking toward the door. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one a deliberate tease. He could feel her eyes on his back, could sense the desperate calculation happening behind him.

Her face was a battlefield. Her jaw clenched, then unclenched. Her eyes darted from his back to the ceiling, to her belly, to the open door. Her lips parted as if to speak, then pressed together in a thin, stubborn line. He could see the war raging behind her eyes—pride against survival, dignity against desperation. Her hands gripped the blankets, knuckles white, then released. She looked at the door, at the empty path beyond, and he saw the realization settle over her like a weight.

She was alone. Truly alone. And if he left, she would stay alone.

Her face crumpled, the last of her resistance crumbling away. Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a shuddering breath, the sound of surrender.

He was almost at the door when the contraction hit her again.

"UUURRRGGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

She pushed, her body straining, her face contorted. The baby's head appeared, a tiny dark curve, and then retreated. She sobbed, her body shaking. Her hands pressed against her belly, her fingers trembling, and she looked at him with eyes that had given up all pretense.

"Wait!" she cried, her voice breaking. "Don't leave... Stay... please help me..."

He stopped, a slow smile spreading across his face. He turned back to look at her, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Oh? What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

She swallowed her pride, her face burning with humiliation. "Stay... help me... I can't do this alone..."

He walked back to the bed, his footsteps slow and deliberate. "So now you want my help? Now you're begging me to stay?" He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "And here I thought you didn't need me. Here I thought you'd rather die than have me watch you."

She looked away, her face red with shame. "Please... just... just help me..."

He pretended to consider it, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. I don't know. You were so rude to me. So dismissive. Why should I help you after everything you've done to me?"

"Please," she begged, her voice desperate. "I'll do anything. Anything. Just help me. help my baby."

He felt a surge of dark satisfaction, so powerful it made him dizzy. She was begging him. The Jade Shadow, the woman who had humiliated him, who had broken him, was begging him for help. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

He sighed, pretending to relent. "Fine. Fine. I'll stay. But only because I'm a generous man. Only because I can see how much you need me."

She nodded frantically, tears streaming down her face. "Thank you. Thank you. Please... just check... check if the baby is coming..."

He looked down at her, a cruel smile on his face. "First, take off the robe. I need to see everything. I need to see what I'm working with."

She stared at him, her face flushing with embarrassment. "What? No. I can't... I can't just..."

"Take it off," he said, his voice hard and commanding. "Or I leave. And I won't come back. You'll be alone. Completely, utterly alone. And you and your baby will die."

She hesitated, her face a mask of shame and desperation. But then another contraction began to build, and she knew she had no choice. With trembling hands, she reached for the ties of her robe and began to undo them.

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as the fabric fell away from her body. She was naked now, completely bare before him. Her skin was pale, slick with sweat, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear. And there, rising like a mountain above her, was her belly. Huge. Heavy. Impossible.

He let out a low whistle, his eyes fixed on that great, swollen mound. "Wow. Look at that. Such a huge belly. How is anything that big ever going to come out of you?"

She looked away, her face burning with shame. "Please... just check... check if the baby is coming..."

He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the space between her legs. Her vagina was swollen and wet, the narrow slit parted slightly. She was so exposed, so vulnerable, so utterly helpless.

"Open your legs," he ordered. "Wide. I need to see everything."

She hesitated, her body trembling. But the contraction was building again, and she knew she had no choice. She opened her legs, spreading them wide, completely exposing herself to him.

He leaned down, his hand reaching out. His fingers brushed against the swollen flesh of her vagina, and she flinched, her body jerking away from his touch. Her legs instinctively closed, trying to protect herself.

He yelled, his voice sharp and commanding. "Open wide! Did you want me to check or not? Do you want my help or not?"

She panicked, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't leave! I'll open wide! I promise!"

She spread her legs again, wider this time, forcing herself to stay still despite the shame burning on her face. He watched her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction, and then he reached down again.

His fingers pressed against her slit, probing at the opening. She was wet, slick with the fluids of her labor. He could feel the heat of her body, the trembling of her flesh. He played with her, his fingers tracing the edges of her opening, feeling the swollen, engorged flesh.

She shuddered at his touch, her body tensing. "Nghhh... please... just... just check..."

He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Oh, I'm checking. I'm checking very carefully. You wanted me to help you, didn't you? Well, this is what help looks like."

He pressed his finger against her opening, feeling the resistance of her flesh. It was so tight, so impossibly narrow. He pushed slightly, and she gasped, her body tensing.

"Please... be gentle..."

"Gentle?" he laughed. "You didn't ask for gentle. You asked for help. And I'm helping. Now stay still. And open wide."

She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face, and forced herself to stay still. He continued to probe, his fingers playing with her swollen flesh, enjoying every moment of her humiliation.

Look at you, he thought, his mind swimming with dark satisfaction. What a helpless cow, mooing and spreading, desperate for anyone to help you. And I'm the one you're begging. Me. The man you crushed like an insect. The irony is almost too beautiful.

He pulled his hand back, wiping her fluids on his tunic with a look of casual disdain. She lay there, trembling, her legs still spread wide, her face burning with shame. The contraction had passed, leaving her gasping for breath, her body slick with sweat.

He stood over her, his arms crossed, a cruel smile playing on his lips. He didn't know much about childbirth. He had never been present at a birth, had never cared to learn. But he had heard things over the years. Whispers in taverns. Stories from drunken men. And now, he would use every scrap of that knowledge to tear her down.

"First," he said, holding up a finger. "The baby is too big. Look at that belly. Look at how huge it is. Who put that giant inside you? Some man, I assume. Some man who thought it would be funny to give you a child that's too big for your body."

She looked away, her face contorting with pain. Not physical pain, but something deeper. Something raw and personal. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she pressed her hand to her belly, protecting it from his cruel words.

"Don't... don't talk about him like that," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Don't talk about my baby like that."

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "Your baby? Your baby is the reason you're in this mess. Your baby is the reason you're lying there, naked and broken, begging for help. Your baby is killing you, Jade Shadow. And you're defending it?"

She sobbed, her body shaking. "Please stop..."

He ignored her, holding up a second finger. "Second. The baby is too high. Look at your belly. It's so high, so far up. That's why it took you so long to get the head down to the opening. All those hours of pushing, and your baby was still making its way down. No wonder it took forever."

She shook her head, her eyes wild with denial. "No... no, that's not true... it's coming... it's almost here..."

"Is it?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Then why did it take you so long just to get the head this far? Hours and hours of pushing, and it only just reached the opening. It's been a long, long journey down from that high belly of yours."

She sobbed, her body wracked with despair. He held up a third finger.

"Third. Your muscles. Your precious martial arts muscles. All that training, all that fighting, all that power. It's made your muscles too tough. Too strong. Great for fighting, sure. Great for breaking bones and humiliating men. But now? Now it's working against you. Your muscles are too tight. They won't loosen up. They won't make way for the baby."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "No... no, that's not true... that can't be true..."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, venomous whisper. "It is true. You've spent your whole life training to fight. To kill. And now, when you need your body to do something else, something soft and gentle, it can't. It doesn't know how. You've made yourself into a weapon, Jade Shadow. And weapons can't give birth."

She sobbed, her body shaking. "Stop... please stop..."

He held up a fourth finger, his smile widening. "Fourth. Your slit is too narrow. Look at it. So small. So tight. My wife is a peasant woman. She's never fought a day in her life. She's soft, pliable, built for this. She gave birth in two hours. Two hours! And look at you. The great Jade Shadow. The most dangerous woman in the country. You can kill with your bare hands, but you can't give life. How ironic is that?"

She sobbed harder, her body wracked with despair. "No... no, stop saying that... please..."

"Irony," he repeated, savoring the word. "You've spent your whole life taking lives. And now, you can't even give one. You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

The contraction came again, sudden and overwhelming. Her body arched, her face contorted, and a scream tore from her throat.

"UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

She pushed, her body straining, her muscles screaming. But it was futile. The baby's head appeared, that tiny dark curve, and then retreated back inside when she released. She collapsed onto the bed, sobbing, her body heaving with the effort.

"Please," she begged, her voice raw and desperate. "Help me... I don't know what to do... just... just get the baby out of me... please..."

He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Get the baby out of you? How? I'm not a midwife. I'm not a healer. I'm just a thug, remember? The thug you humiliated. The thug you broke. And now you're begging me to save you?"

"Please," she sobbed, her hands reaching out to him. "I'll do anything... anything... just help me..."

He looked down at her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. She was broken. Completely, utterly broken. The great Jade Shadow, the woman who had made him feel like less than nothing, was begging him for help. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"Anything?" he said, his voice soft and dangerous. "You'll do anything?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes, anything. Just... help me..."

He smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a chill down her spine. "Fine. I'll help you. But you're going to do exactly what I say. Exactly. Do you understand?"

She nodded frantically. "Yes. Yes, anything. Just please... get the baby out of me..."

He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on her belly. "First, we need to get you in a better position. You've been pushing all wrong. No wonder nothing is coming out."

She nodded, her eyes wide with desperate hope. "Okay. Okay. Just tell me what to do. Please. Tell me what to do."

He smiled, his mind racing with dark possibilities. This was going to be fun. This was going to be very, very fun.

He circled the bed slowly, his eyes drinking in every detail of her helplessness. She lay there, naked and trembling, her huge belly rising and falling with each ragged breath. Her legs were still spread wide, completely exposed to him, and her face was a mask of shame and desperation.

"Alright," he said, his voice taking on a mock-authoritative tone. "I've decided. Get on your hands and knees. On the bed. That's how they do it in the villages. The baby comes out easier that way."

She hesitated, her face flushing with embarrassment. The thought of crawling on all fours, naked and exposed, was mortifying. But the pain was building again, and she knew she had no choice. Slowly, painfully, she rolled onto her hands and knees, positioning herself on the bed.

"Lower," he ordered. "Bury your head. Hips higher. I need to see everything."

She obeyed, her head dropping down to the mattress, her hips raised high in the air. Her belly hung low, heavy and pendulous, so enormous that it almost touched the bed beneath her. She could feel his eyes on her, could feel the heat of his gaze on her exposed body, and she wanted to disappear.

He laughed, the sound cruel and mocking. "Look at you. Look at that pose. You look like a pregnant cow. A fat, helpless cow, waiting to be milked."

She flinched at his words, her face burning with shame. But she didn't dare say anything back. She couldn't. She needed him. She needed his help. So she stayed there, her head buried in the mattress, her hips raised, her body completely exposed to him.

The contraction came, sudden and overwhelming. Her body tensed, and she pushed, instinctively thrusting her hips backward toward him. The position helped. She could feel it. The baby's head emerged a little more, and when she released, it retreated less than before. A tiny bit of progress. A tiny sliver of hope.

He watched, his eyes gleaming, as the baby's head remained emerged just a fraction. Not fully, but more than before. He could see the dark curve, the wet mat of hair, and he felt a surge of dark satisfaction.

She's gaining hope, he thought. She's starting to trust me. This is perfect. This is absolutely perfect.

She looked back at him, her eyes filled with desperate hope. "Thank you... thank you... it's working... please keep helping me..."

He stepped closer, positioning himself behind her. He could see her vagina, swollen and wet, the narrow slit parted slightly, the baby's head just barely visible. He reached down, his fingers brushing against her flesh.

She flinched, her body tensing, her legs instinctively closing just a little.

He yelled, his voice sharp and commanding. "What was that? What do you think you're doing? You want my help or not?"

She panicked, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't leave! I'll stay still! I promise!"

She forced her legs apart again, wider this time, her body trembling with shame. He reached down again, his fingers pressing against her slit. This time, she stayed perfectly still, not daring to move, not daring to flinch.

He pressed his fingers against her opening, feeling the swollen, engorged flesh. He could feel the baby's head, just there, round and hard, just barely inside her. He played with it, his fingers tracing the edges of the head, pressing against the soft fontanel, feeling the resistance of her stretched flesh.

So this is it, he thought, his mind swimming with dark satisfaction. This is what's been causing all this trouble. This round little head. And she's been trying to push it out for hours.

She gasped as his fingers touched the baby's head, her body trembling. "Please... be gentle..."

"I'm helping," he said, his voice flat. "I'm stretching you. Making it easier for the baby to come out."

She bit her lip, tears streaming down her face, but she didn't protest. She didn't dare. She just stayed there, her hips raised, her body completely exposed, and let him do whatever he wanted.

He pressed his fingers against her opening, pushing just slightly against the baby's head. She gasped, her body shuddering, and then he felt it. A gush of warm fluid washed over his hand, covering his fingers, dripping down his wrist.

Water. The birth waters. They had broken.

He pulled his hand back, staring at it with genuine disgust. His fingers were wet, covered in her fluids, and he shook his hand violently, a look of pure revulsion on his face.

"Look at this!" he shouted, his voice harsh and angry. "Look at what you've done! You've gotten your filthy water all over me! All over my hand! This is disgusting!"

She panicked, her eyes wide with fear. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I couldn't control it! I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to?" he interrupted, his voice dripping with contempt. "You think I care what you meant to do? You think I want to be covered in your filth? This is what I get for trying to help you."

He turned toward the door, making a show of walking away. "I'm done. I'm not touching you anymore. You can deal with this yourself."

"No!" she screamed, her voice raw with panic. "Please! don't leave! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll do anything! Anything! Just don't leave me!"

He stopped at the door, his hand on the frame, and looked back at her over his shoulder. She was still on her hands and knees, her head buried in the mattress, her body shaking with sobs. She looked pathetic. Broken. Completely and utterly defeated.

He pretended to consider it, letting the silence stretch. "You'll do anything?" he said, his voice cold and flat. "Then say it. Say it out loud. Tell me what you are. Tell me what you've become."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. "What?"

"Say it," he repeated, his voice hard. "Say 'I am nothing but a weak, pathetic cow, spread open and helpless.' Say it, or I leave."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Please... don't make me..."

"Say it," he commanded. "Or I'm gone."

The contraction was building again, the pressure mounting, and she knew she had no choice. She pressed her face into the mattress, her voice barely a whisper. "I am... I am nothing but a weak pathetic cow, spread open and helpless."

"Louder," he said. "I can't hear you."

"I AM NOTHING BUT A WEAK PATHETIC COW—UUURRRGGHHH—SPREAD OPEN AND—NGHHHH—HELPLESS!" she screamed, the words tearing from her throat between groans as the contraction ripped through her.

He smiled, a slow, cruel smile. "That's better. That's much better."

He walked back to the bed, positioning himself behind her. "Now, no more surprises. No more of your filthy fluids on me. Understood?"

She nodded frantically, her body shaking with sobs. "Yes. Yes, I understand. I promise. Just please... keep helping me..."

He walked back to the bed, positioning himself behind her again. She was still on her hands and knees, her hips raised, her body trembling. He could see her vagina, swollen and wet, the baby's head just barely visible.

She looked back at him, her eyes filled with desperate hope. "Thank you... thank you... what do I do?"

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "You want my help? Then stop begging me. Stop begging me for help. I'm done with your begging. Beg your baby instead. Beg that giant of a child to come out. It's your fault it's so big. It's your fault you're in this mess. So beg your baby. Beg it to come out."

She sobbed, her body shaking, and she pressed her face into the mattress. "Oh heaven, baby... please come out... Mama can't take it anymore... Mama can't... please..."

"Louder," he ordered. "I can't hear you."

"PLEASE!" she screamed, her voice raw and desperate. "PLEASE, BABY, COME OUT! MAMA CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"

He laughed, the sound filling the cabin. "That's it. That's the sound I wanted to hear."

The contraction came again, and she pushed, her body straining, her voice a raw scream. "UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

The baby's head emerged a little more. He could see it now, round and dark, stretching her opening wide. She was so close. So close.

"Push!" he commanded. "Push harder!"

She pushed, her body straining, her face purple with effort. "UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH!"

The head stretched her to the limit, the flesh thin and taut around the crown. He reached down, his fingers pressing against the baby's head. And then, with a cruel smile, he pushed it back. Just a little. Just enough to make her scream.

"NO!" she cried, her body convulsing. "What are you doing?! Please! Don't push it back!"

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "I'm helping. I'm making sure you're stretched enough."

"No!" she sobbed. "I’m begging you. Don't push it back! It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, just let it come out!"

He pretended to consider it, his fingers still resting against the baby's head. "Alright," he said finally. "I won't push it back. I'll let it come out. But you have to push. Push as hard as you can."

She nodded frantically, her body trembling. "Yes. Yes, I'll push. I'll push."

The contraction came, and she pushed with everything she had. Her body strained, her voice a raw scream. "UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

And then, finally, the head popped out. Fully. Completely. It emerged with a wet, gushing sound, sliding out of her body and into the open air.

She collapsed onto the bed, sobbing, her body shaking with relief. "It's out... it's out... the head is out..."

He stared at the baby's head, at the tiny face, the closed eyes, the wet mat of hair. And he smiled. A slow, cruel smile.

"Look at that," he said, his voice soft and mocking. "A tiny little head. All that suffering, and it was just a tiny little head. But there's still more, isn't there? There's still the shoulders. The body. This is far from over, Jade Shadow. Far from over."

She sobbed, her body shaking, but she didn't respond. She didn't have the strength. All she could do was lie there, completely broken, and pray that the worst was behind her.

But it wasn't. And he knew it. The baby's head was out, but the shoulders were stuck. He could see it clearly, the tiny head emerging from her swollen slit, the neck straining, the body refusing to follow. She was still on her hands and knees, her hips raised, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain.

"The shoulders are stuck," he said, his voice flat and cold. "You need to change positions. Get on your side. One leg up. Other leg on the bed. Open wide."

She nodded weakly, too exhausted to protest. Slowly, painfully, she rolled onto her side, her body collapsing onto the mattress. She pulled one leg up, her knee close to her chest, her hand gripping it tightly. The other leg remained bent but flat on the bed.

The position opened her wide. He could see everything. Her vagina, stretched around the baby's head. Her belly, huge and heavy, rising at an angle. And her breasts, full and heavy, hanging to the side.

"Now push," he ordered. "Push hard."

She took a deep breath, her body tensing, and pushed with everything she had. "UUURRRGGHHHH! AAAAAHHHH! NGHHHH!"

Her hand squeezed the edge of the bed, her knuckles white, her body straining. Her face was contorted, purple with effort, veins bulging on her forehead. She pushed and pushed, her voice a raw scream.

And then, slowly, the shoulders began to emerge. First one, then the other. The baby's body slid out, inch by inch, the hardest part finally done.

She collapsed onto the bed, sobbing with relief, her body shaking. "It's out... it's out... the shoulders are out..."

He watched her, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. Her breasts were hanging to the side, full and heavy, and he noticed something. A thin, white liquid was leaking from her nipples, dripping onto the mattress.

Milk. She was leaking milk.

She noticed it too, her face flushing with shame. She tried to cover herself, but the pain was too great, the exhaustion too overwhelming. She let her hand fall, her body too weak to care anymore. She had no pride left. No dignity. Nothing.

Her legs, those steel-strong legs that had once kicked men through windows, were now spread wide, trembling with every push. She was completely exposed, completely vulnerable, completely broken.

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "Look at you. Milk leaking from your breasts like a cow. And your legs, those strong, powerful legs, trembling like a newborn fawn. You're pathetic. Absolutely pathetic."

She sobbed, her body shaking, but she didn't respond. She didn't have the strength. All she could do was lie there, completely broken, and hope that it was almost over.

He stepped closer, looking down at her. "Now, say thank you. Say thank you for helping you."

She stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. "What?"

"Say thank you," he repeated, his voice cold and commanding. "I helped you. I saved you. Now thank me."

She hesitated, her face flushing with shame. But she had no choice. She had no strength left to fight. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Thank you for helping me."

"Louder," he ordered.

"THANK YOU!" she sobbed. "THANK YOU FOR HELPING ME!"

He smiled, a slow, cruel smile. "Good. Now, the rest of the baby. Just a little more pushing. Just the body. It should come out easily now."

She nodded weakly, her body trembling. "Please... keep helping me..."

He laughed, the sound cold and mocking. "No. I'm done. The hard part is over. Just a little more pushing and the baby will come out. You can do it yourself."

"No!" she cried, her voice raw with panic. "Don't leave! Please, I need you! Just a little more!"

He shook his head, walking toward the door. "You don't need me anymore. The shoulders are out. The hardest part is done. Just push a little more and it will come out."

"I beg you!" she screamed. "Please don't leave! I can't do it alone!"

He stopped at the door, looking back at her over his shoulder. Her face was a mask of desperation, her body trembling, her legs still spread wide. She looked pathetic. Broken. Completely and utterly defeated.

"Remember this," he said, his voice cold and flat. "Remember that I helped you today. Remember that you begged me for help. And remember that you owe me. You owe me everything. And never, ever cross me again. Do you understand?"

She sobbed, nodding frantically. "Yes. Yes, I understand. I understand. Just... please..."

He turned and walked out of the cabin, leaving her alone on the bed. The door was still open, and he heard her behind him. A groan of effort. A push.

"UURGH... NGHHH..."

And then, a sound of relief. A soft, shuddering "oof" as the baby's body slid out of her. A gush of water and fluids hitting the mattress.

And then, a cry. A tiny, high-pitched wail. The sound of new life.

He walked away from the cabin, a slow smile spreading across his face. The sun was beginning to rise, casting golden light across the forest. He felt... satisfied. Completely, utterly satisfied.