#pushing

Her pooping out the baby noises starting at 1:22:00 make my penis hard

Of course, if her crew had known she was pregnant, they would have sent someone else. But she wasn't going to be the one to tell them when it should never have happened in the first place.

Long-term projects like the one they were working on had lots of rules about fraternization, but leave any group of people together for months or years on end with nobody else to talk to, and those rules got broken. And the rules meant that there weren't any other... measures to prevent something that would be bad for the mission from happening. Which of course meant that it had. She'd only slept with him a few times, desperate to relieve stress and feel the warmth of companionship after being stuck in deep space for so long on that tiny ship, but a few times was all it took if you didn't have any good ways to be careful.

It had taken her a long time to realize what had happened. A small issue with the engines had caused some turbulence for the first few months that had let her excuse her sickness as an issue with the motion combined with the unpalatability of shipboard food, even though she'd never had an issue with it before. The bloating was from the constant zero-g, and she never got big enough to be unable to hide under layers of shipboard clothing. Her period was had been spotty at best due to stress and microgravity at the best of times, so when it stopped altogether, she barely noticed. One less thing to worry about. The movement, though, that was what finally gave it away.

But by then, she was in too deep. They could have turned the ship around, but the time it would have taken to get back wouldn't have been enough. The risk of some sort of space-age coat hanger abortion would have been worse than the risks of going through with it. And her crew needed her. They all had their own duties, and everyone needed to pull their weight. They didn't need the extra stress of her situation jeopardizing the mission. So even after she knew, she kept quiet. And it all led to this.

Her, floating free in microgravity, on the way home from satellite maintenance, strapped into her space suit, having contractions. Increasingly frequent contractions.

She held the handles at the front windows of the shuttle, watching the larger station on Vesta come slowly into view below her as the asteroid turned. She would be back in mere hours, and forced to explain what had happened. This was the end of the line. Her grip tightened, causing the stiff fabric of her gloves to crumple softly in the relative quiet of the shuttle, a harsh noise against the soft, ever-present hum of the air recycler. Her innards pulsed and squeezed, and in the lack of gravity, the tensing of her muscles pulled her into a tight ball of pain on what she considered usually to be the ceiling. She'd done the maintenance and come back inside, but hadn't been able to get the suit off between contractions, the bulk of it inhibiting her movement.

As the contraction eased off, she slowly, carefully unfurled, breath heaving in the confines of her helmet, fogging the visor. She reached out for another handle and dragged herself back towards the rear of the shuttle, where the airlock and suit storage lockers were crammed together tightly. The area between them gave just barely enough room to exit and stow the suit. If she'd tried to bend over, she wouldn't have had enough space. Gingerly, she began to depressurize the suit, doffing her gloves first to expose her hands for the rest of the process.

As she reached up to remove her helmet, she felt another wave of pain start to wash over her. She reached for the latches, but before she could start to push them out of place, it sharpened and crashed into her. She struggled to curl around her tightening belly, but the small space wouldn't allow it. Desperate for relief, she reached out, grabbing at the locker handles and bracing her hands and feet against them. A small noise escaped with her breath as she floated there, helpless against the pain that coursed through her body.

It felt like minutes passed before it finally began to ease off and she regained control of herself. Shaking, she undid the latches on her helmet and stowed it in the locker with her gloves as quickly as possible. She reached around for her back fastenings and undid them too, grateful for the extensive practice that let her muscle memory take over. She had to brace again as she finished undoing them, another contraction hitting her before she could get out. Primally, she wished to crouch there in the corner and squat with her belly between her legs, but there was no gravity to let her, and no space either, so she let the tightness and desperate need to spread her legs pass over her without doing anything. It was torture. She breathed hard, moaning against the awful pain. When it was finally over, she drew herself out through the back opening of her suit, finally free in her jumpsuit underlayer again. She considered a moment, then took that off, too, and floated naked in the cramped body of the shuttle.

She paused there, pulling herself out of the locker space with the handles on the ceiling and into the main part of the space, where she had a little more room to move. She held the handles above her even after she'd moved, taking comfort in the stability of them. The pain felt worse without something to ground her, she'd discovered.

Sweat beaded her freshly-bared skin in the shuttle as she floated there, waiting for the next contraction to come upon her. It wouldn't be long with the time she'd taken getting herself undressed. She even took a moment to almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation, sweaty and naked in the middle of the shuttle. It was cut short when another contraction took her and she curled again toward the handles and the ceiling, rolling to press her knees against an open space on the ceiling. Without the suit in her way, she could move how she pleased.

As it faded, she found she didn't have the strength to move, and rode the next few contractions curled there against the wall. They were getting worse. She'd have stayed there longer, but a click and a beep announced communication from Vesta, newly restored as the station curved around to the same side of the asteroid that the shuttle was on.

"Rivera, come in. How'd the maintenance go?" Of course it would be Wright on comms, just her luck. She steadied her breath and pulled herself to the console.

"She's ship-shape. Should be getting data back any minute now. I don't think we should have any further issues with her," she said, holding the button on the console to transmit her voice. She hoped he couldn't hear her voice shaking.

"Good to hear. Your course looks good from here," he said, "you should be go for reentry in about 35 minutes." He hesitated. "We'll be happy to have you back." She heaved a breath. Things had been a little strained between them for a while. Since they'd stopped spending so much alone time together. He didn't understand why she'd stopped treating him the way she had been.

"Readings are the same up here. I'll be doing systems checks if you need anything else," she said, deliberately ignoring the sentimentality. She shut off the comms link and floated in front of the window for a moment, looking out at Vesta before a piercing pain grabbed at her stomach again and she cried out. This one was far worse than the others had been, twisting and snarling at her belly until suddenly she felt a release. A "pop". Dread peeled through her as she curled to reach down and look between her legs. The slight tightening of her core muscles that the movement required expelled a reddish liquid from her slit, which clung to her in the microgravity, wobbling like sheets of jelly on her legs and floating like horrible marbles in the air around her.

She spring into action, grabbing her old clothes and using them to daub at the liquid before it could get into any of her equipment. Her water had broken, and quicker than she could have expected, another contraction took hold of her. She moaned into it, the pain far worse even than the last one had been. Barely a minute passed after it let her go before another one was on her. They were fierce and constricting and she felt the squeezing pressing pushing something against her cervix.

But as soon as the contraction ended, it stopped. The pressure was gone. She panted slowly in the quiet shuttle, placing her hands against her sweaty, distended stomach as it rolled and shifted. From what she knew of childbirth, that pressure shouldn't have been going away. That pressure should have meant that the time for pushing was close at hand. It returned again with the next pain, pressing against her insides and pulling at her baby, but when the pain ended, it was gone again.

The gravity, she realized. Nobody had ever given birth in microgravity. Without gravity, the pressure of her own body was the only thing holding her baby against her cervix. The only thing pushing it into the birth canal. When the next contraction hit her, she rode through it again, the pressure deepening. Slowly, an urge began to rise deep in her body. The baby was coming. She needed to push. But as the contraction died down- they weren't completely going away any more- the urge mellowed alongside it.

A sense of dread began to build in her. If the lack of gravity wasn't going to let her give birth, then she was in trouble. Vesta's gravity was barely better than microgravity, if she couldn't get the baby out here, her chance there would be little better. As another contraction began to peak, she reached out and grabbed for it, gripping the handles in front of her and bracing her feet against the wall in a squat. She pushed as hard as she could, giving in to the urge her body was forcing on her.

Slowly, under immense duress, she felt it slide slowly into her birth canal, the force of her body pushing it through. But as the contraction faded and she lost her grip on the need to push, it slowly slid back up.

She tried again. Pain wrenched her belly and she pushed as forcefully as she could, but made no progress that wasn't undone. She was trapped for what felt like so many minute on end in a horrible purgatory of pushing and losing progress over and over again.

A voice cut through the haze of pain.

"Automatic landing system initiated, t-minus 1 minute to deceleration burn. Please remain in your seat until burn is complete." A robotic voice said loudly from the front panel.

"Fuck," she replied.

Forcing herself out of the position she'd been holding for what had apparently been nearly half an hour, she gingerly lowered herself into the seat at the front of the shuttle. bracing her legs against the console and her back against the chair, and riding out another contraction pushing as hard as she could, she slowly strapped herself down to her chair. There was no time to think about what her crewmates would think of her when they found her like this.

"T-minus thirty seconds," the voice continued. She panted in her seat. "Twenty seconds," it said. Another contraction was slowly beginning to build.

"Ten. Nine. Eight." Pain blossomed in her belly.

"Seven. Six." She watched as her stomach tightened and shrunk against her.

"Five. Four." Pain. Her body was wracked with it. She could barely breathe, barely think.

"Three." She needed to push.

"Two." She couldn't even hear the numbers as they came, every second felt like a millennium.

"One." Here it comes.

"Deceleration burn initiated." As the engines activated, the shuttle began to slow abruptly, approaching the asteroid Vesta, and along with the quick deceleration, came wonderful, blessed g-forces. Her eyes rolled back in her head and the sudden change. Her body tensed. She was flattened down into her seat by them and the pushed against her at strengths far exceeding Earth's gravity. All the pushing she'd done until now had been nothing but practice. She pushed, and felt her baby slide down into her birth canal. It's head rammed into her opening with incredible force, the g-forces pushing it down into her.

She lost the contraction, but not the pressure. As her baby's head pressed outwards with the force of the decelerating shuttle, it burned and bit and stung like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She might have cried out, screamed even with the intense pain and pressure, but the noise of the shuttle's engines drowned it out.

Mercifully, her body forced another contraction on her and she pushed again, her baby's head popping free of her like it was nothing, and its shoulders sliding out easily after. She drew her knees together to keep it from falling to the ground with the increased force, and they both lay there for a long moment before the pressure from the burn slowly started to ease off.

She found herself breathing hard, gasping for air as the shuttle docked. The baby, freed from the horror of its own birth, and returned to Vesta's minimal gravity, began to cry. The sounds of the airlocks in the docking bay hissed quietly behind her, and she heard the door open.

"Rivera, what happened? We didn't get confirmation from you before the decel-" Wright. Of course. He stopped short as he entered the shuttle, her crewmates behind him with emergency equipment.