Completely natural, unassisted home birth of a 10lbs 15oz baby, with an orgasm

At 41+2 I started having contractions during the night, very sporadic and not very painful.

This went on for a couple days, then at 41+5 I got up and did the school and daycare drop off. I Started having more painful contractions whilst parking the car at the school, and by the time I left to drive back home they were 5 minutes apart, I had to keep pulling over due to the pain!

By the time I got home I managed to put my 13 month old down for a nap, it was taking everything in me to not moan in pain and wake him up.

I called my husband saying I think it’s happening now, with this being my sixth I know when I’m getting close to the end. He left work straight away, and 20 minutes later when he got home he found me swaying my hips back and forth whilst holding on to the dresser, moaning with each contraction.

“What do you need me to do babe?” He said, our plan was to have it be an intimate birth experience just us two. I had a hospital birth with my first and another with my twins, and then 2 home births, one of which I was completely alone, so I felt comfortable with our plan.

I asked him to unpack the kit I’d made (waterproof pads, towels etc) and to put on some relaxing music. I took my clothes off (nothing more irritating than clothes in labor) and I leant my elbows and head on our bed, swaying back and forth, each contraction going all around my huge bump, round to my back and down my legs.

I knew something was different as I’d never felt the contractions in my back to the severity I could. Last scan she was the right way round… but what if she’s turned?

At this point my contractions were 2 minutes apart lasting for a minute, and it had only been 45 minutes since I got home. Things were moving quickly.

My husband starting rubbing my back and holding a cold flannel on my forehead whilst I groaned in pain. Within 10 minutes my contractions were back to back - no relief or escape from them, just pure pain.

Then I felt it - the pressure. The unmistakable pressure of the head moving down, and wow, so much pressure on the bottom of my spine. It was like someone was taking a knife to it.

My husband asked to check me, and when he went to he felt the babies head straight away. He asked if I felt like I needed to push, but I couldn’t even respond. He helped me lie down on the bed and sat behind me, propping me up a little. I had a mirror so I could see what was going on, one big push and I could already see her head.

I pushed for another 15 minutes but her head just kept showing a little, then going back in. My husband was encouraging me and telling how well I was doing, I know it can take a while. But there is nothing more infuriating than seeing that head go back inside you, when you just want the pain to end.

Then my husband put his hand on my clit, and started rubbing it. Something I was never expecting him to do - he finds birth amazing, but he doesn’t have a kink like me. Wow - the combination of the intense pleasure along with the even more intense pain - I can’t even describe it.

My body started to relax and the head was now staying out with each push. I could feel myself stretching, my body opening up. The pressure on my back was still very intense, but my husbands hand being where it was was really easing all of that.

When I was almost crowning, I stopped to allow myself to stretch. I know I make big babies, I don’t want to tear. Whilst the head sat there, stretching me open, my husbands hand carried on rubbing, and I experienced something I never thought I would during birth - an orgasm.

It was the most intense thing I’ve ever experienced in my life. The pain of being stretched almost to my limits and the pleasure of the orgasm running through my body. Once it had finished I asked my husband to help me to squat. Once swatting, one more push and I was fully crowning. He commented on how big her head was, and I could see in the mirror. She was HUGE. I’ve never stretched this much, I thought.

One more push and her head came out and it was clear why my back hurt so much, she was facing the wrong way, she was facing up towards the ceiling. For 5 minutes I tried to push the shoulders out but I couldn’t, and the pressure on my pelvis was excruciating.

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.

—

You wake early, a gentle ache between your legs. It’s nothing completely new, probably a dream you can’t remember left you wanting.

Your girlfriend sleeps peacefully next to you. She had a long night, came home late from work, probably shouldn’t wake her.

So you gently, quietly slide your own hands down your body. You can be quick, silent. She’ll never know. And the ache is getting worse.

Your fingers find your clit, so swollen and needy, just a quick swipe and you’re stifling a gasp. Weird. You’re never THIS turned on. Not unless you’ve been edging for hours. Maybe you should wake your girlfriend. You lick your lips and take a breath, considering, then it happens. A shift inside your body.

What the hell was that?

Your hands move to your stomach as if you’re going to feel something. Your stomach looks the same as it did last night, right? Or is it…is it a little rounder? No. No it can’t be.

You feel it again, like something moving inside your body. It’s not painful it’s just…happening. This time, whatever it is moves lower. It feels like it’s settling between your hips.

You glance at your girlfriend, she’s a nurse, she could probably help you. But it’s also probably nothing. She works so hard, she pulling a shift in the ER til 2am. No, let her sleep….oh god…what the hell was that?

You look down again. Your stomach definitely looks rounder now. What is happening?

You don’t get chance to really think about it as something inside you almost…pulses?

You stifle a gasp, hands moving back between your legs.

Whatever it is, it’s moving down.

That’s when the pressure starts. You can almost ignore it at first, but minutes in and there’s no denying what you need to do.

You need to push.

This is stupid, why is this happening? Is it a dream? It’s got to be a dream.

Your body doesn’t care. You watch your stomach tighten and then without permission it happens. You bear down, a groan caught in your throat and you’re pushing something out.

It moves, whatever it is. Maybe the tiniest bit. But it does move.

You consider getting up, go to the bathroom but…this doesn’t feel like a bathroom situation. The way your clit throbs, you can feel how wet you are. You don’t want to move. Your brain is telling you this can’t be happening but all your body wants to do is push.

Another contraction. Is that what you’re calling these? Whatever it is, it’s not painful like you’d expect. Just, tight. Your fingers finally become brave enough to slip inside, just to check. Definitely not because you’re craving some kind of fullness.

But your fingers meet something. It’s higher up, but it’s definitely there. It’s smooth, sort of. Hard and wet, but smooth. Too small to be a baby.

Your fingers explore further, trying to figure this out when your body pushes again and whatever it is slips down a little further. Fuck that feels good.

Okay…so it’s kinda smooth, definitely hard, definitely wet. Feels like maybe it’s covered in something? Like a thick layer of something.

You can’t trying to figure it out. Your body isn’t giving you a choice. It wants whatever it is, out.

You bear down again, taking your fingers out of your aching core and push. You bite your lip, maybe you split your lip, you don’t care. Whatever this is, has to come out.

You can feel whatever it is bulging behind your lips now, straining and stinging. It’s bigger than you excepted, in all directions. The object has slipped down but you still feel so full.

Your girlfriend stirs and you freeze. Or at least you try to. You don’t know how you’d explain this to her. You shift your hips and cover yourself with the sheets.

You’re almost excited when she doesn’t wake.

Time to get whatever this is out. Right?

With a slightly more confident mindset, you grit your teeth and push. Whatever this is, it needs to come out.

You’re not sure how long you spend like that, gently panting and pushing. Your hands between your legs, you can feel it stretching you wide, the smooth surface distending your pussy. But it won’t come out. You push, and push. You’re sweating now. On the verge of screaming in frustration. It won’t come out!

Everytime a little more of it slips out, the moment the ‘contraction’ ends, it slips back inside. You can’t grip it, and it’s too big to get your fingers back inside yourself to help it out.

There’s only one way to do this.

You lay there for an hour, silently pushing, biting down on a pillow to stifle grunts and groans. Your thighs are slick with something, legs pushed apart by whatever is trying to come out. But whatever it is, it’s still filling you, stretching you.

You feel like you’re going to tear, your stomach is rounded definitely now, you can see the bulge in your lower abdomen where it’s filling your birth canal.

Exasperation builds and you want to cry.

Till cool fingers that aren’t your own slide down your body.

You turn, meeting your girlfriend’s eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you.” She says softly.

You should probably question it, but you’re contracting again and you have to push. You’re bearing down, hands under your thighs and groaning silently when she speaks again.

“You don’t have to be quiet.” She says it in such a gentle, understanding tone.

“Oh god…oh thank god…” You blow out a desperate breath, finally allowing yourself to moan with each push.

“Hmm, you’re not getting there, are you?” Your girlfriend says, almost…tutting? Her cool hand slides lower.

“What are you—”

“Just trust me.” She kisses you, almost like she’s distracting you and then her fingers find your swollen clit.

“Fuck!” Your body arches, into her touch or against the building pressure, you’re not sure. But she’s not letting up.

“Let me take care of you.” She coo’s.

Her other hand helps move the sheets til you’re both finally able to see what you’re dealing with.

You are stretched so desperately wide, your lips look like they’re seconds from tearing. There’s no blood, only a thick purple sort of liquid coating your thighs. The same as what’s coating the lilac egg coming out of you.

“Oh god…what…what is that?!”

“Shhh, baby. Just let me help you.” She kisses you again, her fingers working against your clit as you push, grunting and groaning into her mouth.

You can feel it building. Pressure, so much pressure. You can’t tell if you’re going to come or what.

In an instant, your body decides for you and you come. Waves of pleasure coursing through you, back arched, fingers gripping your thighs and in the haze of your release you feel whatever it is finally slip out of you with a wet squelch onto the bed.

You’re breathing hard, trying to wrap your mind around it. You open your eyes and your girlfriend is…holding it?

“What the fuck is that?” You ask her. She seems almost enamoured with it.

“It’s not big enough.” She says simply.

“What’re you talking about? What is it? What the hell just came out of me?” As the fog of pleasure lifts from your brain, you’re left with confusion. Confusion that your girlfriend doesn’t seem to be feeling.

“It’s not big enough.” She repeats.

You’re so confused, shifting to lean on your elbows to look at her properly when she clutches the lilac egg in her hand carefully and crawls across the bed. She kneels between your legs.

“Needs longer.” Is all she says.

And then she begins pushing it back inside you.