Latest Posts by birthbitchii - Page 9

Kind of random but I am a huge fan of alien impregnation and I have really been thinking about making the pregnancy role play alien related.

For example, maybe the pregnancy is the result of a random hookup at a club. It should be impossible due to me being on birth control but I end up pregnant. I eventually decide to go through with the pregnancy but as it progresses, I start to feel that this pregnancy is not as normal as I once thought.

Forced Pregnancy

18+ blog. Despite my name, I'm actually a trans guy.

I only repost things that turn me on.

Please contact me if you believe you have been impregnated by aliens, monsters, or cryptids!

Always open to role-playing (only 18+, strongly prefer you are the carrier):

Horror pregnancy

Rapid pregnancy

Pregnancy/birth denial

Public birth

Hard birth

Oviposition

Hyperpregnancy

Alien, monster pregnancy

Hidden pregnancy

Mpreg

Belly bursting/bad end

Not into:

Vore

Scat

Unbirth

Im Helena, your 5’, big breasted, dark haired and 42 weeks overdue classmate.

U see me groaning and arching my back during class, a few minutes after I ask for permission to go to the bathroom you asked for it too, just to follow me.

I walk fast and went out of the building, you follow me slowly so I didn’t notice. You stare at me as I stop to breathe each 2 or 3 minutes, I finally made it to the furthest bathroom of the campus where no one goes that early. I get into the showers and started taking my clothes out, I’m sure this baby is coming out but I don’t know even how to push, I’m so scared.

Im taking my bra off when I see you just staring at me, I try to cover my big tits and I scream “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE???” I instantly fell on my knees while I feel a lot of water dripping down my legs…

7 for the prompts, maybe a car birth?

I love a car birth, it’s such a good trope! Thanks for the request. Apparently my brain isn’t capable of simply writing a regular car birth, had to add a little twist- it’s not technically a car. Enjoy :) [3k words, fpreg, clothing birth] Prompt: “I don’t think the baby is gonna wait that long…”

We All Scream For Ice Cream

My contractions had started this morning and after three kids perhaps I should have known better. Yes they were consistent but they weren’t strong and were completely manageable. I’d called my parents to tell them my labour had started and they came to collect the kids so I didn’t have to worry about watching over them as I laboured. I spent the morning pottering around the house doing laundry and some cleaning, working through the steady waves whenever they washed over me. But after a while I started getting frustrated being inside the same four walls; I needed some air and space. It was the height of the summer holidays and you were up and out early for work to maximise our income during your busiest time of year. I knew you’d only taken the ice cream truck to the local park, you stopped going too far afield as I got closer to the end of this pregnancy - you wanted to be close in case I needed you to come home. I decided a nice walk through the park would do me good and would help with the contractions. Plus it gave me a chance to see you and let you know baby number four was on the way.

The breeze felt wonderful on my hot and clammy skin as I waddled my way down the residential streets cupping the underside of my heavy baby bump. If I pressed into the stretched skin just above my pubic bone I could feel the head of the baby sitting extremely low, perfectly in position and ready to be born. I was excited to tell you I was in labour again, maybe you could finish work early today and come help me through it this afternoon when it would inevitably ramp up.

I suffered a couple of contractions on my way to the park but they didn’t phase me - after three births I was all too familiar with the tightening and contracting of my muscles. I simply stopped, bracing my hands against a neighbours fence or a nearby street lamp, and swayed and hummed my way through them, letting the waves wash over me.

By the time I reached the park I was getting pretty hot and sweaty, but it was a warm day in the middle of summer and I was 9 months pregnant. Overheating was just par for the course. I saw your truck parked on the opposite side of the field next to the kids play area. I never thought this park was very big but right now, with my labouring belly, the journey across the green seemed a mile long. I sat on a bench to catch my breath before making the journey, watching you hand ice creams to all the kids and families that filled the park. You had such a sparkle in your eye as you handed the ice cream to its recipient, seeing the glee and excitement in each and every child’s face when they got their summery treat.

A contraction tore me away from watching you, its sharp and insistent pain coursing through my hips and legs. “Hoooooo… take it easy there…” I softly said, rubbing the large circumference of my belly as the baby kicked and shifted even lower.

A stranger walking by asked if I was okay, but with the look of panic in their face I told them it was just a kick. I didn’t get the feeling they’d handle it well if they knew a labouring mother was out here on her own in the park. After the contraction was over I awkwardly pushed myself up, cupping my low belly, and started walking over the luscious green grass. A long queue had formed for ice cream, you were busy rushing around the truck getting lolly’s out of freezers or adding sprinkles to soft whips. You didn’t have the time to notice my approach.

I thankfully didn't have a contraction as I waddled across the park but I could feel one coming as I approached the truck. I hurried past the line and nipped behind the vehicle, only just managing to make it away from the crowd before the intensity peaked. I quickly planted both palms against the truck and leaned into the contraction, taking deep long breaths, in and out, bracing through the pain and breathing the baby down. My hips were circling instinctively and I was glad no one was on this side of the ice cream truck as it would be very obvious I was in labour.

I waited for the line of customers to go down, riding out a few contractions during that time, before I rounded the corner and stood in front of the window.

“What can I get- Honey! What are you doing here?” Your eyes lit up and you broke into a wide smile, surprised but happy to see me.

“I thought I’d come and say hi.” I said, one hand rubbing my tight stomach.

“Where are the kids?” You asked, seeing that I was alone.

“With my parents.” I answered with a knowing smile, waiting to see if you’d put the pieces together.

“With your…. Wait, are you-?” Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you looked directly to my very pregnant belly.

“Yup, I’m in labour. Contractions started this… this m-morning…. Hoooooo” Another wave creeps up on me and I’m forced to grab on to the little shelf at the bottom of the window, hands gripping tight as the pain lances through my body.

You jumped out the back door of the van and were standing behind me in an instant. You held my hips and squeezed hard, pressing into the pressure points that would ease the pain, knowing exactly what I needed from our previous births. I let out a soft and grateful moan as I relaxed back into you.

“Oh honey, you could have just called, you know.” You laughed and kissed the back of my neck.

“I like seeing your reaction… hoooo…. when I tell you I’m in labour.” I manage to say, though the pains were starting to make it difficult to speak.

“What, so you can see me panic?! You’re evil, you know that.” You joked affectionately.

When the contraction faded you released your grip and I turned around, your arms quickly wrapping around me.

“Baby number four eh. So what was your plan after coming to tell me?” You said in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“I figured I’d go back home, and then call you when things get more serious.”

“How long do you reckon for this one then?”

“I dunno. It’s definitely progressing faster than the others.”

“How fast?” You arched an eyebrow and looked down at me with concern.

Before I could answer, another contraction struck. My hands laced around your neck and I buried my face in your chest, unable to contain the groan from my throat.

“Jeeze, hun, that was quick. It's okay I’ve got you.” You added, feeling my knees dip slightly. “Just ride the wave, deep breaths.”

I couldn’t speak, consumed by the heavy weight that was sinking lower and lower and lower…. My hips circled and bounced, my fingers tightly gripping each wrist as I practically hung off your sturdy frame. Your hands were on my ribs holding me steady. Groaning rumbled my throat, getting deeper as the pressure in my pelvis skyrocketed, and the noise ended with a grunt.

“Fuck, babe - was that a push?” You asked with panic, surprised at just how deep into labour I was.

“No…. I don’t think so but- hoooooo- there’s so much pressure. Baby feels really low-oooohhhhh!” I whimpered.

“Have your waters broken?” You asked and I shook my head against you in response.

“I don’t think this labour is going to last as long as you think, judging by those sounds.” You warned, your thumbs affectionately rubbing my ribs while you held me steady.

“Hooooo…. I swear it wasn’t this b-bad when I left the house…. Feels like it’s come out of nowhere.” I say, feeling the pain dull enough for me to stand on my own and release my arms from your neck.

“Well they do say it gets quicker with each birth. Right, I think we need to get you back home. Then we can pick up the hospital bag, jump in the car and drive over there.”

“I… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk back home…” I admit, holding my bump with both hands, the weight and pressure felt constant even without a contraction.

“Okay… erm… I’ll take us back in the truck?” You suggest hesitantly.

“What? No way. There’s only a driver's seat - what am I supposed to do - get in the back with the soft serve?” I gripe with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s only a few minutes back to our house. You got any better ideas?”

Another contraction steals any response I could make and I’m suddenly hunched over, hand bracing my thighs, and groaning behind closed lips. You offer your arms as support but I wave them away, the combination of heat & pressure overwhelming, I didn’t want to be touched. Instead you jumped in the truck and I could hear you banging around, closing freezer drawers and locking cabinets, but it was all background noise to me. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, the pressure between my thighs was worsening making me grunt. My fingers gripped my legs and I pushed my hips backwards, my body acting solely on instinct. Before the wave of this contraction was over I felt something give, my legs squatting, and a puddle started to form at my feet.

“Ooooohhhhh honey- my waters have broken…” I grunt out. Gosh, I could feel the baby’s head on my cervix and I really started to worry about how long we actually had before our fourth child made their appearance.

“We need to get going, babe.” You said jumping out the van and coming over to support me. We waited for the contraction to fade and you then helped me crawl into the truck. I was glad to be wearing my maternity leggings and a thin top; it made manoeuvring into the vehicle much easier than if I was in one of my summer dresses.

“Right, I’ve locked everything away so it all should stay put on the drive, you won’t get covered in ice cream don’t worry.” You try to joke as I huff and puff my way into the cramped truck. “Why don’t we get you sitting down on the floor..?” You suggest, climbing in after me to try to help me get comfortable.

“Ooohhhh no… can’t sit down. Baby too low… fuck.” Crawling on my hands and knees I settle near the large rectangular freezer that was directly under the window booth. Staying on my knees I sit back on my heels and rest my arms on my legs, my bump sitting between my widened thighs. “I’ll just… stay like this. Drive carefully though…”

“Of course I will, precious cargo.” You said with a smile before giving me a kiss.

You shut the back doors of the ice cream truck behind you when you left, ran around to the driver’s seat and quickly started the engine. “Hold on sweetie, we’ll be home soon.” You said, putting it into gear and setting off.

We barely made it out of the park and onto the tarmac road before the next contraction struck, and without my waters it soon became apparent just how close this baby was to being born. Leaning forward and grasping the top ridge of the freezer in front of me, I tried to breath through the building pressure that was pulling and squeezing my insides. My moaning was instinctual at this point, my body’s way of riding the crashing waves of pain. Whether it was the motion of the truck or my kneeling position, but something triggered a need to push. At the end of each groan I could feel my body bearing down.

“H-how long to get to the h-hospital once we get h-home?” I stutter.

“Hospital is about 35 minutes from our house. Why?”

“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long…. Hooooo…” I breathe, hips lifting and rocking in circles just above my feet. “Go straight to hospital, don’t go via home….”

“But we don’t have any of the stuff, for you or the baby?” You question, but still follow the instruction immediately altering our journey.

“Doesn’t-matter-nnngghhhhhh!” I gruff out before lowing deeply, bearing down again, my knuckles turning white with my grip on the freezer.

“Are you pushing??!!!” You shout.

“Can’t-help-it-”

“Shall I pull over?” You panic at hearing the familiar sounds of me pushing a baby down.

“No! Just- hospital- now!” My head dips as the wave ends and I try to catch my breath in between contractions.

We were still navigating the residential streets so thankfully weren’t going fast, but that meant we were still a way off from the hospital outside of town. My knees wide on the floor and arms stretching up gripping the fridge were the only thing keeping my body and my mind grounded. I closed my eyes, taking long deep breaths and disappeared into myself. Stay calm, you've done this before, I told myself.

“How we doing?” You asked nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Just… drive…” I exhaled heavily, preparing myself for the next wave to hit.

And hit it did; suddenly every part of my being squeezed and screamed at me to push and I had no choice but to comply. My legs widened as far as they’d go, I pulled my body closer towards the fridge, lifting myself up and hanging off the ridge with my forearms. The head was starting to peek through, I could feel it, and there was no way I could hold off from bearing down. My hips tilted backward and I pushed with everything I had. A long and guttural moan sang from my lungs as I pushed, the head slowly crowning into my underwear. We weren’t going to make it!

“Stop!!!!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

“But-”

“The head-is-coming out…. Pull over now!”

The truck rocked and shuddered as you brought it to a halt. You sprang from the driver’s seat and on your way accidentally switched on the jingle sounds of the ice cream truck, the tune ringing from the speakers on the roof.

I barely noticed the doors to the truck being opened and closed, or you climbing inside - all my energy was focused solely on getting this baby out of me.

“What can I do?” You frantically asked, but only got more guttural noises in reply as I continued to bear down.

Releasing the push with a huff, I panted quickly saying “I think it’s crowning… hoooo…”

“We need to get those leggings off babe. Are you able to move? If you can get on all fours I should be able to roll them down.” You were as white as a sheet but you squashed your fears, knowing I’d need assurance and confidence right now.

Following your instructions I moved to all fours, and I soon felt your hands around my waist pulling at the tight fabric trying to roll it over the large bump and down my thighs. We had to stop part way for another contraction and another round of pushing. The baby’s head was stretching me so wide and I could tell it must be showing through the fabric when I heard you gasp.

“Oh my god, the head is coming out!” You exclaimed.

“I know that! I can feel it.” I snipped sarcastically.

“Sorry honey. You’re doing amazing. But I still need to get these leggings off you…”

I grunt, bearing down once more with the contraction, and I can feel the resistance of the baby hitting the wall of my stretched leggings. When the push was over I cried out “Go! Do it now!” and you scrambled at the waistband of my clothing and rolled the elasticated fabric down my damp thighs.

“Do you want me to take them completely off?” You asked but I could barely think, the next wave was already here and all I could do was push.

I wanted to widen my knees, to open up my burning hips to make the required space for the baby to pass through, but the tight fabric of the leggings pulled around my knees was preventing any further movement. I whimpered in my struggle; I needed to open my body wider and push but I simply couldn’t. In my desperation I went from my hands down to my elbows, my forehead touching the floor, my backside raised to the sky and I pushed with everything I had. I needed to get the head out and I had to get it out now.

“Easy babe,” you said softly, and I could feel your hand over the baby’s emerging head. “Take it steady, it’s crowning. Try and pant if you can, let it come on its own.”

“Hooohooo- oh fuck- I need to get it out…. Can’t hold off- oh I need to push!” I screamed.

Before you could tell me otherwise my body jerked as the head popped out and I groaned at the relief. Lifting my head slightly I bring a trembling hand down my body and between my thighs to feel - your hands were there too, cupping the newly born head of our child. You moved, letting me feel - the ears the nose, the hair - our baby. Your fingers then gently stroked the back of my hand, no words were said as our hands entwined, squeezing each other. The love, encouragement and support all conveyed within that squeeze.

We were suddenly startled by a gentle knocking on the window booth.

“Hey mister, can I have an ice cream please?” The excited voice of a child said from outside the truck.

With the delirium and exhaustion of childbirth I couldn’t help but laugh. You heard my hitched breathing, worried I was crying, and asked “Babe, what is it? Are you okay?”

My laughs got a bit more distinguished as I raised back up onto my hands and twisted to look at you. “This is one hell of a birth story…” I giggled.

“Ha. Maybe this one will take over the family business.” You joke, relieved to see me smiling during this eventful and inconvenient birth. “Sorry kid, no ice cream today.” You shouted through the walls of the truck.

“Oooo- hoooo- babe… mnggghhhh… it’s coming….” I shift and grunt, bracing both hands on the floor and surrendering to the contraction once more. “Fuck… why didn’t we take my leggings off!?”

“Keep going babe, the shoulders are coming. You can do it. Yes!… one shoulder…”

“Grrrrhhhhhhhh!!!!” I groaned loud and long, pushing through the excruciating stretch of the shoulders.

“…two shoulders… and again push honey push!!!!”

“Mnnnghhhh- catch it!!!” I screamed, and a second later the baby fell into your waiting hands and instantly cried.

Tears sprang from my eyes at the sound and I immediately twisted my body and legs around so you could hand me the babe.

“It’s a girl.” You said proudly, putting the slippery newborn against my chest.

“Hi baby… hi.” I cooed, lifting my thin t-shirt and placing her against my chest. “You were in a hurry weren’t you.”

Kinda in love with the idea of giving birth while trying to maintain composure and doing something mundane..

Casually walking through a grocery store, slightly bent over your cart while feeling a fat head tease at your entrance.

Hiking on a low impact trail, quietly stepping off to take a quick squat at a nearby tree, pulling your pants down just enough to put your hand in and birth your baby’s head into your palm.

Sitting at your desk, taking down a customers information to give them a call back so you can give yourself enough time to push out the shoulders.

Birth denial + pregnancy denial is such a hell of a drug. I think about a person who is deep in denial going to the mall, trying on clothes, even as their baby descends deeper and deeper into their hips. They try on tighter and tighter outfits, trying to fight it.

None of your clothes fit. Not one item, not anymore. You looked in the mirror and even the oversized sweatshirt, the biggest thing you owned, was stretched across your middle making your baby bump visible to the world.

No one knew you were pregnant, you barely even admitted it to yourself. It was a mistake; one night last summer, too much alcohol, and you were left carrying around the consequences. You pretended it wasn’t happening, and it worked, for a while. Thankfully it was winter time when your stomach started to pop, making it relatively easy to hide beneath jumpers and sweatshirts and coats.

But now the heavy and cramping mass hanging off your hips had outgrown all your clothes. It wasn’t surprising as you were almost certainly full term, but you quickly squashed any thought of what that meant. Standing in front of the mirror you realise you couldn’t keep up the charade with your current wardrobe, so decided it was time to go shopping - yet again.

The bus ride was long and arduous - your back and hips constantly aching, the baby shifting and kicking inside - but eventually you make it to the mall. As you walk past the shops you pull at your sweatshirt, trying to stretch the fabric to hang loosely over your curves rather than clinging tight across your belly.

You head to the men’s section in the clothing store and make a beeline for the jumpers and hoodies. You’d resorted to men’s clothing a while back, the androgynous fit in a large size allowing for the perfect concealment of the baby bump. Another cramp seizes and you try not to clutch your stomach as it peaks, instead just bracing a hand into the small of your back as you breathe through it. You must have sat awkwardly on the bus and strained a muscle.

Riffling through the rails of clothes you grab a handful of different XXXL sweaters and head to the changing rooms. You notice your walk has gotten more and more like a waddle in recent days, the baby sitting ever so low in your hips, and it takes a lot of effort not to huff with even the slightest of movements. As you close the door in the changing room another twisting pain slices your hips and rolls around your back and across your belly. You brace against the door and pant your way through the squeezing and tightening of your insides.

Looking into the mirror you see your face has flushed and sweat is gathering on your forehead. It was hot in the mall, especially with the jumper on, but you couldn’t exactly remove it and announce your hidden pregnancy to the world. You pull the jumper off, it catching slightly on your distended stomach, and you glimpse the full and heavy extent of your mistake. As your pregnancy developed you tended to avoid mirrors, not wanting to see how much your body had changed, it was bad enough that you were living with it you didn’t need to see it too. But there was a curiosity today, a desire to see and understand it, so you pulled up your tshirt exposing your bare skin. Another cramp struck and you saw the muscles contract, could feel your belly hardening beneath your fingers. You found yourself swaying your hips and biting your lip, ignoring all the signs that pointed towards labour.

Don't mind me just thinking about the thought of sitting in a dark movie theater as I feel the head of a baby starting to push against my jeans.

Hi, i hope you don't mind if i request to combine 2 prompts in one scenario.

8. "There's so much pressure..."

12. "Come on, you'll be fine. First labour's take ages.

Scenario: a pregnant woman got kidnapped by her obsessive ex-boyfriend, went into labor and begged him to take her to the hospital because she can't be having the baby in his basement, but he refused. Go as wild and dark as you want.

Thanks 💌

Thanks for the request anon, this was delicious to write. Only prompt no.8 has been included as the other didn’t naturally fit in to wherever the hell this story went. I swear I have no control, these stories take on a life of their own. You said go wild and dark, so… 😈 Trigger warnings; kidnapping, vomit, blood, violence, mental instability, death (not mum or bubs dw), oh and of course fpreg & birth. Hope you like it

Chained

Libby’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her vision to focus but when it did she realised nothing was familiar. The room was dimly lit, no natural light source, only a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Dark grey bricks formed each of the four walls and the floor below was concrete and rough. She was lying down, on old discoloured bedding on a rickety metal bed. Where the hell was she?! She tried to push herself upright, but she discovered one arm could not be moved. It was handcuffed to the bed!

“What the hell…” Libby muttered.

“Ah… you’re awake.” Came a voice from the shadows.

Stepping into the light Libby saw a man walk towards her. It was Scott, her ex boyfriend. He looked awful. She’d not seen him since they broke up 18 months ago. His hair had grown, now matted and unkept, dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his usually clean shaven chin now sported a severe and dishelved five o’clock shadow.

“…Scott? Where… where am I?” She asked confused and still a little bit groggy.

“You’re at home darling. I rescued you.”

Libby’s brain whirled into overdrive. She remembered going to a midwife appointment, it was her final check up before her due date, she finished the appointment and headed back to her car. She had stopped just before opening the door, hearing something behind her, and then…. everything went black.

“Rescued me?! From what?” Libby asked, managing to push herself to a sitting position with her one free hand.

“From making a mistake. Did you really think you could keep me away from my baby?” Scott drawled, his eyes staring hungrily at her pregnant stomach.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We broke up, I moved on. This isn’t your baby!”

Libby’s outburst was rewarded by a forceful smack across the face. The distinctive metallic taste of blood soon filled her mouth. She was shocked into silence.

“We were great together! We were happy; we were going to get married, have a family, and then… Brendon came along. Poisoning our relationship, turning you against me, stealing you for himself. No! I won’t let him take this away. I’ve brought you home baby… so we can be together.” Scott’s hand touched her bump and his eyes widened in glee. “Where we can be a family.”

This man was insane, Libby thought, realising the true danger of this situation. It was one thing having an ex that still held a candle towards you, but this was way beyond that. She knew Scott hadn’t taken the break up well, but since the split he’d clearly disappeared into a realm of utter delusion. The baby in her womb shifted, feeling the fear of its mother. Scott’s mouth twitched into an uncomfortable grin, feeling the child move. Libby daren’t say anything, it was clear he was unstable and there was no telling what might set him off.

“Rest up sweetie. I’ll get you some food, you must be hungry. Eating for two and all that.” Scott said cheerfully, removing his hand from her stomach and disappearing upstairs.

Libby looked down at her stomach and her handcuffed wrist. She didn’t feel hungry at all. Only nauseous.

~•~

Scott returned and brought her food. Libby didn’t say anything, didn’t move, too scared of accidentally provoking him. He left the tray of sandwiches and crisps on the side table next to the bed and disappeared upstairs, offering a firm “Eat” before he went.

Her memories had returned as she gradually came around from whatever drug Scott had administered. Brendon and Libby had decided to have a little trip away this weekend before the baby came. A baby-moon as they say. They’d told all their friends and family they’d be out of town and without signal for a few days, but this morning Brendon called to say he had a work emergency and they’d have to cancel. That was fine, Libby would just go visit her parents instead. Only she never got a chance to call her parents after the midwife appointment. Everyone thought her and Brendon were away, and Brendon thought she was at her parents - no one would realise she’d been kidnapped.

Her stomach rolled with fear. She needed to think, find a way out of here. Wherever “here” was…. Where the fuck had Scott taken her? She didn’t recognise the room, it could be anywhere. She looked over at the plate of food and her heart sank. She recognised the crockery - this was his family’s cabin, in the middle of the woods.

~•~

Days. She’d been there days. Her family and Brendon would hopefully know she was missing by now. But they’d never find her here.

Scott continued to visit, to bring her food, to talk the baby in her womb. He’d offered to bathe her once, disgusted by the thought she refused. When he tried to get more forceful, hitting her again, she faked practice labour pains and he thankfully left her alone to rest.

She barely spoke to him anymore, too fearful to say the wrong thing again, of which she had learnt the hard way. She tried once to play along with his delusion, that he had “rescued” her from Brendon and now they could be a family. Believing her, Scott eventually unlocked the handcuffs, but when she made a break for it towards the stairs of the basement Scott went ballistic. They got into a fight; she kicked and screamed and hit, but he was stronger and in the carnage she fell forward against the wooden stairs she was trying to climb.

Scott was stricter with the handcuffs after that. Libby swore to herself not to try it again for fear of what might happen to the baby if she fell again.

She had been feeling cramps ever since the fall. They weren’t too bad or debilitating, thankfully she wasn’t bleeding which Libby hoped was a good sign and that her baby was okay. The fall was a brutal reminder of the precious cargo she was carrying and she had to be careful.

The next night Libby was awoken by a forceful cramp rolling through her middle, much worse than any of the others she had felt. Curling round her stomach she breathed heavily through the wave until it passed, and she promptly fell back asleep.

It happened again shortly after, pulling her from her slumber and waking every cell of her body as it peaked, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter. She pushed herself up to sit on the bed. The room was pitch black - Scott controlled the lights and was the only way she knew if it was day or night. She rubbed the aching cramp rolling across her tightened belly with one hand, the other remaining chained to the bedpost. She wished she could move, to walk it off, but with the handcuffs and the darkness she had little options. Instead she got on her hands and knees and rocked steadily through the pain.

“Please be practice contractions…” she whispered to herself. “You can’t come now baby, you’re safe in there. Wait until we get outta here okay?”

The cramp eventually eased and after a few minutes waiting for the next, Libby let herself sink sideways back onto the bed. The baby had got the message, it was just practice pains, she thought to herself as she drifted back off to sleep.

~•~

The light to the basement flickered to life followed by the familiar stomping of feet on wooden steps.

“Morning sweetheart. How’s the mother of my child today?” Scott said in such a cheerful caring tone it caused a shiver to roll up Libby’s spine.

She glared at him from the bed, lying down under the covers half asleep and curled around her bump.

“Still not talking to me eh? Oh well. It won’t be long before I have a son or daughter to talk to.” Scott drawled, as he placed a cup of water and slice of toast onto the bedside table.

Another cramp squeezed her belly and Libby sucked in a breath, hissing through her teeth. She could feel her stomach hardening beneath her fingers as the practice contraction squeezed.

“Honey, are you alright?” Scott’s eyes pinched in cautious concern.

“Just a kick.” Libby said, schooling her face back to a neutral expression.

“Excited to meet their daddy no doubt.” He gleefully said making Libby feel sick.

This baby is NOT yours! She cried in her head.

“Get up and have some breakfast. I’ve got some things to show you today.” Scott said, offering a hand to help her up.

Libby ignored his hand and pushed herself upright. “What things?”

“All in good time my dear. It’s a surprise.” And with that he disappeared back upstairs with a gallop.

She could hear banging and thumping above her and wondered what on earth he was doing. Her stomach growled and she reluctantly nibbled on the toast that was provided. After eating she was left solely with her thoughts and the noises from upstairs. Plus the occasional cramps that continued to plague her. Sitting down became too frustrating and she managed to get herself to standing right beside the bed. Her arm was pulled uncomfortably far forward by the handcuffs, but at least it relieved the pressure in her hips.

The baby felt so low, like it was grinding on her pelvis. But she did feel like her breathing was better now. Libby tried to focus only on the positives and did not dwell enough to realise this meant the baby had dropped into position for birth.

She stayed standing as long as she could beside the bed, riding out the braxton hicks and swaying her hips side to side, but eventually her legs ached from the awkward position so she return to sit on the bed.

The practice contractions continued to wash over her whilst Scott was banging away upstairs. Libby was starting to get hot and sweaty and could barely sit still through them. She found herself biting her lips and humming through them, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. She didn’t want to attract Scott’s attention. She ended up back on all fours on the bed, one hand awkwardly attached to the bed while she rocked forwards and back through the rising waves. It was getting harder and harder to stay silent through these pains and it was getting more and more difficult to convince herself these were only practice contractions.

“Ohhhh… we had a deal baby. You have to s-stay in there…. It’s not s-safe…” Libby moaned quietly to her child, the pressure in her hips mounting with every contraction.

The sounds of movement from above made her panic. Scott was coming. Quickly, she moved from all fours and returned to her sitting position on the bed. Sitting down made everything worse - the heavily feeling of the baby so so low caused the pressure to spike. So much so she nearly threw up, gaging slightly at the same time Scott opened the basement door.

She could hear him huffing and puffing as he stomped every step, he was clearly struggling with something, and she saw the “surprise” before she saw him. It was a crib! Oh hell no, she thought to herself. There is no way my baby is being born here and it will never go in that thing.

“Darling…” he cooed as he got down to the basement “I got you something. Well, I got our baby something - a crib!” He said proudly as he placed it at the foot of the bed.

Libby didn’t say anything; saying something negative could earn her a slap, saying something positive he’d think she was up to something.

“Well?” He asked, clearly getting frustrated with her silence.

“It’s… nice.” She said timidly, he didn’t seem any calmer so she added “thank you.”

With that Scott broke into an unhinged smile. “Only the best for my baby. Made it myself!”

Libby felt the familiar tightening of another contraction approaching. Breathing steadily through her nose, she tried to keep any pain showing on her face.

“What do you think of the design?” He urged, unaware of the struggle happening inside Libby’s womb.

“Great.” She gritted out as calmly as she could.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Scott rushed upstairs leaving Libby alone for a minute.

The second he was out of sight her eyes scrunched and she panted erratically. Her hips were on fire, the baby sinking lower and lower. This was no false alarm, Libby finally admitted to herself.

Scott came bounding downstairs with a pile of baby clothes and blankets. “I also got these. I wasn’t sure if we were having a boy or a girl so got a selection of different clothes. And lots of blankets and toys. Everything we could possibly need.”

Libby couldn’t help it but she groaned loudly and curled over her contracting stomach.

“They’re not that bad!” Scott said, referring to the pile of clothes he’d now dumped into the crib.

“Ooooooh Scott….” Libby whimpered, the pain still barrelling through her body.

“Lib? What is it? What’s wrong?” He crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her knee.

“I think… hooooo- I think I’m in labour. You have to take me to the hospital.” Libby pleaded.

“What? Oh no, you’re not fooling me again.” Scott recoiled away from her, and started pacing. “You- you tried that before remember. And then you tried to run away, to take my baby away! You were going to leave me Lib! No!! I’m not letting you out of my sight again. No way. No one else can have you. You and that baby are mine!”

“Scott… please. I’m having contractions… I need help… I need doctors…”

“No… I can’t. You’re just going to leave me again. I can’t lose you.” Scott shook his head, like he was trying to reorganise the thoughts inside. “You’re just pretending again, you’re not really having the baby, you’re just trying to escape. Well you can’t trick me twice. Nuh-uh. I’ll come back when you’ve stopped the act.”

“No! Scott!” Libby cried but the door slammed before she could say anything else.

~•~

Libby shouted and pleaded for 10 minutes straight after Scott went upstairs, but he never came back down. She stopped when her voice started to crack and when she thought she heard the front door slam.

This baby was coming and she was trapped - handcuffed to a bed in a basement in the middle of nowhere, the only person for miles was her crazy ex boyfriend who was convinced the baby was his.

Despite her wishful thinking, the contractions just kept on coming. It was as if accepting they were real had made them more frequent and stronger. There was no clock down here, she had no clue how often they struck, but Libby was aware of the gaps in between getting shorter.

Being in labour was bad enough but the fact she couldn’t move due to her restraints made everything a thousand time’s worse. In desperation she tried to squeeze her hand out the metal handcuff, twisting and pulling, but when it started to peel the skin off the back of her hand she screamed and gave up.

She couldn’t sit down anymore, the pain in her hips too great. All fours was bearable but her arms ached after too long. She tried squatting and kneeling against the headboard, standing and swaying beside the bed. Nothing helped. She felt like a caged animal; frustrated, angry, scared. All the while every contraction brought the baby closer and closer to being born, a fate she was trying desperately to avoid. She feared something might go wrong, and she was scared what would happen the moments after she delivered. Scott was clearly unstable, would he leave her here chained to the bed bleeding out and take away her baby?! She needed medical help, not only for the birth but for her best shot at escaping.

When Scott returned he found her on her knees beside the bed, slumped over the mattress and groaning heavily.

“You can stop this charade Libby! I’m not taking you anywhere!” Scott shouted from the steps of the basement.

“Mnnnghhh! It’s not a charade Scott! Oh god…. So much pressure….” Libby whimpered into the mattress, her knees widening instinctually.

“Come off it. You put on a good show but I know you’re faking it.”

Libby could only grunt, roaring against the building pressure between her thighs. An unmistakable splashing sound hit the concrete floor and she cried out. “My waters…. Hooo- I’m not - faking - it…” she panted and turned around to face him.

Scott’s face had paled and his eyebrows shot up. “Y-you really are in labour?”

“Yes,” Libby breathed, turning around awkwardly with the handcuffs and her large bump, sitting down heavily on the now-wet floor “please please take me to the hospital now.”

He didn’t say anything, instead he disappeared quickly back upstairs.

“Scott!!!” She cried out, worried he would just leave her there forever.

He returned a moment later carrying a plastic box. “It’s happening! Don’t worry darling, I have everything we need for our baby to be born.”

It’s not your baby!!!! Libby shouted in her head.

Sitting on the floor, one arm slung up over a shoulder stuck in the handcuffs, she rubbed her low and heavy stomach with the other as Scott began to unpack the box onto the table opposite.

“Towels. Gloves. Scissors. Clamps. Ooh more towels. Little sucker thing. Wow it’s got everything we need in here. Great Amazon find.” Scott commented as he rattled off everything inside the box.

Holy shit! He wants to deliver the baby here! Libby stopped breathing for a moment, panic squeezing at her heart. He was never going to let her go. She was never going to get her baby out of here before it was born.

“Scott… you can’t… be serious…” Libby said with strained breath.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay sweetie. I’ve done all the research, watched loads of videos. I know exactly what I’m doing and I will deliver our baby here.”

“But Scott I need a hospital, with nurses and medication.”

“No you don’t. Women birth babies every day. I’ve had months to prepare for this. It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be perfect.” Scott’s sinister smile chilled her resolve and another contraction struck before she could continue arguing.

He checked his watched and frowned. “You shouldn’t be having another contraction just yet.”

“I can’t hooooo control it!” Libby snipped.

“Oooo is this the part where you get all angry at me for doing this to you?” Scott joked with glee.

“You didn’t do this to me! This isn’t your baby Scott, please just let me go.”

“Don’t lie!!!!!” Scott shouted, an angry fire flashed briefly in his eyes and his fists clenched tight, but a second later the ire quickly disappeared. “You’re just scared, but it’s okay sweetie, I’m here and our baby will be fine.”

“Ohhh god…..” Libby grunted, the baby slipping lower and pressing against her cervix. She had to move, this position was unbearable, but her legs were useless during the raging contraction. She tried to push herself up, yanking her hands forward but the handcuff rattled and left her arm twisted backwards. “Mnnhhh- handcuffs…. Please undo the handcuffs…”

“You know I can’t do that Lib.” Scott said reluctantly.

“Please…. Mnghhhhh the baby…. I need to move. Can’t stay like this Scott…” Libby groaned and whimpered as the contraction peaked and gradually faded.

“I’m sorry honey, I can’t risk it. But let’s get you back onto the bed shall we, you’ll be much more comfortable there.”

The contraction had left her winded, Libby didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. But when Scott approached and went to help her up she managed to grit “Don’t touch me!” batting his advancing hands away.

“That’s gonna be difficult when I’m delivering our child.” Scott sarcastically replied.

Libby’s stomach rolled, not from a contraction but at the disgusting thought of Scott between her legs. Nausea bubbled inside, rising up her throat. She retched. “I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Scott jumped back as she dry heaved. “Erm…. I’ll get a bucket. Hang on.”

Libby struggled up to her knees, clinging sideways to the bed, and vomited all over the floor. The force of her stomach expelling its contents pushed the baby against her dilating cervix and towards the birth canal. She couldn’t stop herself from bearing down at the same time.

No no no… don’t push. Her brain cried but it wasn’t something she had control over.

By the time Scott returned with a bucket Libby had crawled back into the bed, leaving behind a puddle of amniotic fluid and vomit on the floor.

“Jeeze Libby, you’ve made a right mess. I’m glad we’re down here now, that would have been a nightmare to clean the carpets upstairs.”

“…water…” Libby panted, curled up on the bed and holding her hardened stomach, too exhausted to do anything other than bear through the labour pains tearing apart her body.

“Okay, sure.” Scott picked up the glass from the table and gently poured it into Libby’s dry mouth. “Everything will be okay Libby, our baby is nearly here.” He whispered, placing a grimy hand onto her bump and feeling the swell, his eyes hungrily lighting up as his fingers caressed the curve.

~•~

She was dying. This was how it would end; trapped in the dirty basement of her crazy ex boyfriend. She never got to meet her baby, or get married, never got to buy her own home, or travel the world. The pain was so much she could barely see. Curled up on the bed Libby groaned into the pillow as the latest contraction squeezed her body in on itself. She was vaguely aware of Scott flapping around the room, he was talking but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The only thing she could focus on was the mass of the baby’s head sitting right behind her opening, and she was doing everything she could not to push.

The last few hours had been torture. She’d thrashed around the bed, screaming and begging to be freed, to be taken to the hospital. When transition hit she was brought back onto all fours, grunting and pushing without any semblance of control. Scott rubbed her back and encouraged her through it. She didn’t have the strength to bat him off but she did manage to aim her next round of vomiting onto his feet. And all the while Scott refused to unlock the handcuffs and she remained chained to the bed.

Now she was lying on her side over the covers, exhausted, her body completely and utterly drained. Her knees were curled up as much as she could, her bump squashed between her thighs and her breasts. The contractions were right on top of each other and she panted heavily through each one.

Don’t push! Don’t push! Don’t push! she told herself again and again.

“Right, the waters boiled, everything’s disinfected. Clamps and scissors ready. Towel, check. All we need now… is the baby…” Scott muttered, organising and reorganising the equipment.

Ever since the well-timed vomit, he had kept a grateful distance from Libby. He looked through all the toys and clothes in the crib, talking about all the things he would do with his child, trips they’d make, sports they’d play. He was in his own little world, Libby was just a background character.

Relentless contractions kept hitting her one after the other, she breathed as quietly as she could, tears leaking past her lashes from the effort it was taking not to push. She could feel the baby start to stretch her lips, the head inching further and further even without her active pushing. He’d removed her underwear not long after her waters had broken but her dress remained on her sweaty body, thankfully covering her lower half as she laid on the bed. Libby’s legs slightly parted of their own accord as the baby slipped lower. Still curled up on her side, the baby had a clear exit from its mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Scott was ignoring her when she was lying like this and it was the only position that didn’t make her scream. And yet it also proved to be aiding her delivery.

When the next contraction barrelled straight after its predecessor Libby found herself holding her breath and it was only when the burning feeling started that she realised she was pushing. But she couldn’t stop. Gasping another breath she pushed once more, the baby stretching her wider and wider. An involuntary grunt escaped the labouring mother and alerted Scott to her actions.

“Are you…. Libby - are you pushing?! Is it time?” Scott jumped and rushed over to the bed.

Libby curled further over, her face burying into the pillow, squashing her bump and raising her backside. She groaned long and deep as she pushed the baby further out.

“Oh babe, you can’t push like that! You need to get in the correction position for delivery.” Scott said assuredly with all the delusional confidence his “research” had given him.

He took her bent leg, rolling her over onto her back and she screamed. “Scott! No!” The pain was excruciating, her spine was being stabbed, the fire burning between her thighs. She needed to push but she couldn’t when he kept moving her body.

“You need to be in the right position. Come on now, I know what I’m doing.”

“Stop… I can’t… I need to push…” Libby grunted.

“Wait a minute darling, you’re not ready just yet.”

Scott pulled her up to a sitting position and pushed her back against the headboard, pointlessly fluffing the limp old pillows behind her. Her legs were dragged apart and knees were bent and he jumped onto the foot of the bed and looked up her dress.

“Oh my gosh I can see the head!!!” He squealed. He threw her dress up higher, creasing the fabric just below her baby bump, fully exposing Libby’s vagina and the oval shaped crown of the head.

“Push Libby! You can push now!” He urged.

“I’m not-having a contraction-” Libby panted, furious she had been moved into this ridiculous and torturous position. Nothing about it felt right to her body, she wanted to go back on her side, to kneel, squat, anything but this.

“Oh… erm… well on the next one then. Push. No wait, I forgot the equipment.” Scott bounced off the bed and collected all the sterilised equipment he’d been preparing in readiness. “Ha! All that excitement, nearly forgot these.” He placed the items next to him, by her feet. The metal scissors glinted as they caught the light.

A desperate idea began to form in her head, but a contraction soon swept over her and pulled her focus to the burning ring between her thighs.

“Yes!!! Go on Libby! Push!!!” Scott cried.

Curling forward Libby pushed, her body squeezing the baby lower, its head stretching her wider. She grabbed her thighs, gulped another breath, and pushed. The scissors caught the light again with the movement on the bed. If she could just grab them…

“It’s coming, keep it going honey!” Scott yelled and she could feel his trembling hand between her legs.

Libby huffed releasing the push. It was too much, it was too big…

“Come on baby, go again, you’re so close.” Scott urged.

“Hooo-hoooo- okay…. Here it comes….!!!!” Libby threw herself forward curling over her bump once more. With Scott’s focus on the crowning baby she quickly grabbed the scissors and hid them in the gathered fabric of her dress. She screamed as the baby reached a full crown. Panting frantically her body twitched as the baby stretched her so wide she thought she’d be torn in two. Then it slipped further and with a sudden wail the baby’s head was delivered.

“Wow! The heads out, my baby’s head is born.” Scott awed.

Leaning closer his hands trembled towards the newly born head sitting between her thighs. No! You are not touching my baby! Libby thought, and she grabbed the hidden scissors and plunged them straight into Scott’s neck as she released an animalistic maternal wail.

Scott’s eyes bulged out, roaring in agony as the sharp scissors pierced deep into his muscles. He jumped back, standing for the briefest second staring in horror at her, before collapsing to his knees. A drowning choked sound gargled his throat and when he pulled the scissors from his neck the jets of blood sprayed across the room.

Libby watched, in shock at what she’d just done, as Scott clutched his neck, choking and bleeding. After a few strangled seconds he collapsed face first on the ground.

“Oh my god… oh my god….” Libby trembled, adrenaline and fear pumping through every cell in her body. She had to get out of there.

Twisting awkwardly around, she held the handcuff steady with her free hand and pulled her other through the tiny gap. The skin ripped from her hand, the metal scraping bone, she yelled out in pain but didn’t stop pulling until her bloodied hand was free.

It was as if she had left her physical body, the pain a dull echo compared to the survival instinct to get out of this basement. “I’m gonna get you outta here…” she panted, putting a gentle hand over the baby’s head between her legs. She scrambled off the bed, legs bowed as she cupped the head, and rushed toward the stairs of the basement.

Libby was careful, her previous encounter with this wooden staircase not ending well, climbing wide legged step after step towards freedom. She barely made it halfway when she was struck by another contraction. Holding the head with one hand and gripping the bannister tight with the other, her body squatted as it tried to push.

“Mnghhhhhhh! Oohhhhhh hang on baby…. Mnghhhhhh…. Not yet.” She could feel herself pushing hard, the shoulders starting to press against her, itching to come out, but with a firm hand and heavy panting she made it through the contraction.

When she reached upstairs she was surprised how familiar it all was, Scott had taken her here once when they were dating. It wasn’t much, the furniture and decor were dated, but it was a nice family holiday home in a nice rural location. She shuddered when she thought of the secret prison that was hidden below her feet.

Being familiar with the property made her escape easier, she knew the layout and of course where he kept the keys - in the side dish by the fridge. Grabbing the car keys Libby headed for the door and threw it open. But the baby didn’t want to wait any longer.

She hung on to the doorframe for dear life as the raging contraction took hold. “No no no!!!! We’re so close mnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!” Her legs widened as she squatted, pushing uncontrollably against the wall of her hand that held the baby’s head. The shoulders were slipping through… she could feel them stretching… “Ohhh fuck!” She cried, desperately pushing and holding the baby in at the same time.

When the near constant contraction let up just the tiniest bit, Libby made a break for it and ran to the car, both hands between her legs cupping the emerging baby. Unlocking the car with the press of the button she threw open the back door and clambered inside. She quickly locked the door, scared that Scott would somehow still be coming after her, and when she heard the reassuring click of the locks she huffed an exhausted cry.

But the baby was coming, and it was coming now. On her hands and knees in the back seat Libby finally gave in to nature and pushed in earnest, grunting long and deep as the shoulders stretched and slipped out. Lifting up onto her knees to catch the infant she released a primal roar with the final push and the baby slipped into her bloodied hands.

“Ohhhhhh hey baby, it’s okay it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Libby cried, pulling the little boy to her chest. Wiping his face clear he gave a little cough and started crying, soon matched with the tears of his mother.

“We did baby, we got out.” Libby panted and cried, safe with her baby inside the locked car. After a few minutes she wrapped the baby up against her chest with the towel, umbilical cord still connecting mother and child, and she hesitantly opened the door and got into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, Libby drove herself and her new baby to safety.

Hey guys! This is a little collab I did with @let-me-fill-you, they've sent me many wonderful prompts in the past and I liked one so much I asked them to expand one so I could draw something for it!

Although it is a fine summer's day, you are cold, beneath the earth. For several minutes, you have followed the abbot into the bowels of the monastery, far deeper than you believed, deeper even than the catacombs. Thankfully, it hasn't been a single spiralling staircase all the way down, or else your head might've twisted off from sheer dizziness. But there is a growing pit of unease in your stomach. Where is the abbot leading you? And why now, immediately after you took your vows? Every time you think to ask, the words catch in your throat or the abbot speaks first, "This way." You are grateful for his guidance, at least. It's a maze down here - and the architecture has taken a turn for the unfamiliar, making the darkness all the more unnerving. Could it be that the monastery was built atop an older structure? The order is old, dating back centuries. You haven't the slightest notion of what might've come before. But you have a growing suspicion you're about to find out.

Soon, you see light ahead, stronger than the lantern borne by the abbot. You see a barred door, flanked by two members of your order... but they're not dressed in the monastic habit. Instead, they are clad in fine armor, made of what appears to be... silver? It gleams in the fire-light, lustrous and covered in filigree. No, not filigree, you realize as you draw closer. Runes. Protective spells. Your eyes drift from one's cuirass to his belt, and what you see isn't a cudgel - as expected of simple monks - but a blade, slender and deadly. Your blood chills, on the verge of becoming ice. You look to the abbot in trepidation.

The abbot's expression is grave. "Now that you are one of us, bound by oath, it is time you learned the truth of our order - our shame, and our obligation." He beckons you closer to the door - a great, heavy door, barred not once but twice. You hesitate to move from your spot, but the abbot is patient (and insistent). As you step forth, you console yourself with the knowledge that a door like this is not easily opened, and you are not alone. You should be safe. Should be...

Once you're close enough, the abbot slides open a slot for you to peer through, into darkness - but you hear it before you see it, whatever it is. You hear... moaning? It's dull and low, but clearly in pain. It's enough to raise your hairs; you feel the urge to pull away before something lunges out of the darkness, but you also feel the abbot's gaze boring into your skull, locking you in place. So you continue to stare into the darkness, until your eyes adjust.

And what you see is... a boy? Pale and thin as bone, his face veiled by a head of unkempt hair. You cannot tell if he's conscious, but his lips are open, from which the moaning emanates. He is chained to a rock, jutting out of the ground like a crooked tooth, kept halfway between standing and laying. His wrists, locked tightly within manacles bolted into the stone itself, are starkly red and raw from chafing. You imagine his ankles are similarly bound, but you cannot see them because, well... his stomach is in the way. You cannot believe your eyes. This isn't a gut swollen in hunger, but a sack of flesh, bloated like a fat mosquito, hanging from his skeletal frame all the way down to the rough stone floor, obscuring the entire lower half of his body. His belly, though it feels inappropriate to call it that (it doesn't look like an extension of himself, more like he is attached to it) is huge and ugly - shaped like a droplet from some great weight inside it, and wider than his shoulders, stretched perilously thin and marred with unflattering stretch marks and spider veins. Chains crisscross the gravid expanse, again not made of iron but hallowed silver - and wherever these hold tight, there seem to be burn marks.

Your stomach curdles. What could possibly necessitate this barbaric treatment? Then, as if in direct response to your thought, you see it - something huge and powerful, squirming and shifting within the boy's belly, pushing this way and that, recoiling from the silver, protruding in between the gaps. This isn't a silent affair - you hear the boy's skin creaking as it is stretched to its utmost, you hear sloshing (of amniotic fluid?), you hear sizzling as the tortured skin makes contact with the silver, and worst of all you hear a muffled growling of something vicious and hateful, and you hear the boy's moaning increase...

But it's cut off by the rasp of metal, as the slot is shut in front of your face, startling you. Refocusing on the abbot, you blink a few times, readjusting to the lantern light on this side of the door.

The abbot's expression has not changed, but did he always look so tired? Perhaps it is you who has changed, from the person you were just a minute ago, before you saw that. You look deep into his eyes for answers, a justification of any kind.

He tells you, with solemn cadence, "You must bury whatever sympathy you have for that boy. He contains Armageddon - a monster so terrible that, had it been allowed to enter our world, would have doomed us all. It is trapped in there, but we must remain vigilant. So long as he carries that monster, it will not allow him to age. And he must not die, or else that thing will be free to find another host, another womb to bear it. It may seem cruel to keep him like this, but remember your vows. You have a duty to your brothers and sisters, and the world beyond these walls. You must close your heart to his suffering. In the days to come - not today, or tomorrow, but soon - you'll be expected to feed him, to give him water. It's a heavy burden we share between us, so the onus does not break any one of us. And when that time comes, he will speak to you. He will cry, he will beg, he will howl and scream for the slightest of accommodations, a loosening of his shackles, anything to alleviate his pain, and you will know in your heart that his pleas are genuine. You must not listen to him. The devil does not speak through him - it has nothing to say to us - but it will use our better angels against us." The abbot places a heavy hand on your shoulder. "No one is deserving of that boy's fate. But he must suffer it all the same."

After that, the abbot leads you back to the surface, back into the warm light of day. But you remain cold.

Please, I've been crowning for hours. Please let me finish pushing! It hurts so much! Your baby is so big. I've been very good. I've kept it crowning like you wanted. Please let me give birth now. PLEASE!

only hours? i want to see you like this for days. you’re so pretty when you’re all stretched out around my baby, crying in pain <3 be patient, i’ll give you what you want eventually. probably.

Do you have any mutual birth recs?? They don’t have to be just tumblr! I loved your recent writing and it’s my faveeee trope, I feel like it’s not written enough!

Hi anon!

Thanks for the kind words re my writing, I’m glad people liked it. Yeah it’s one of my fav tropes too, I think because it usually leads to a bit of birth denial from the mother, no physical stopping of the birth or anything, just loadssss of trying to delay the inevitable and the primal call of nature as they are focussing on someone else’s birth. It’s a perfect combo.

Anyway, here’s some of my recs that contain mutual labour/birth…. (in no particular order)

~*~

This post, by @hush-writes-preg

(Three heavily pregnant women trying to deny the fact they’re in labour during a quarantine / medical setting)

This story posted on @imagineyourepregnant

*Top tier mutual birth with birth denial* Ob-gyn in labour while delivering a patients baby. Fav

Labor Crisis by @birthedstars

A heavily pregnant doctor with triplets denying she’s in labour while she tends to other women giving birth.

This post by @morethanoverdue

Too Late To Reschedule by @bumpsandpushes

Absolute all time fav and imo the crème de la crème of this trope! I think this was the fic that made me love the idea of mutual preg. Cannot recommend this author enough. 💜

Same Boat by @gravid-transluna

Amazing writer in the birth kink sphere, highly recommend their work.

A Truer Dream by exponenshul (deviantart)

Mother-Daughter Day by doombez (deviantart)

This one gives me Father of the Bride Part II vibes, with the mother and daughter both pregnant and the birth scene.

See One Do One by thatsthat90 (deviantart)

Enjoy x

Apparently it looks like my belly has dropped, thoughts? 😬

I beg you to stop but you only kiss my tear stained cheeks and continue shoving our baby back up my cunt and into my uterus until the tight ring of my cervix is stretched to its limits around your thick wrist. My pussy and womb clench and flutter around your forearm with contractions as I try to push you out and birth our babies.

Without warning, you wrench your arm out of me and insert a thich hose pipe in its place, battering it back into my womb. It's starts with a trickle and soon, a jet of cold thick jelly like liquid floods into me. I shriek and flail trying to get away from it but you hold me down telling me to hold still. You tell me it's just something to help cushion our babies as a replacement for amniotic fluid. It feels heavy and uncomfortable inside me and you just tell me to suck it up.

I'm bigger than I was before my labor began but you tell me that's my imagination. You stuff my birth canal and cunt with cotton to soak up any spillage then you duct tape my pussy shut.

I'm still laboring and my contractions are coming on top of each other and it all feels like it's blending together, like it's all one big contraction. My belly is bigger, heavier, and fuller than it was and birth canal feels dry and itchy with cotton. My tits are full of milk. I am overstuffed and all I can think about is how much I want you to rub my huge belly, how I want you to squeeze and suck on my tits, how I want you to pinch, flick and torment my clit.

I just want you to keep me pregnant for a while longer. My resistance is all for show, I want it as much as you do but as long as we keep this role play up. And when I start getting too comfortable you'll reach back into my womb and yank my babies right out of me. Maybe you'll pause and make me push for a bit, maybe you'll make me give birth halfway before you push it back in a few more times or you'll make me walk around with your babies half birthed and dangling from my loose cunt between my legs while I make a show of screaming and begging. 'It's too much pressure! Push it back into my loose womb!' Or 'It's stuck in my poor pussy! Pull it out of my cunt!'

anon we should kiss

God I can't WAIT to video my birth and post it online, I bet there's lots of people who would enjoy seeing a trans guy crowning on a big baby~

a boy has angered the gods and he is punished with infinite labour. he is now birthing, at all times, a being that is endlessly long, a draconic snake. the eternal serpent. the boy lays on the bed, hips raised up, clenching down, each contraction shoves the beast a few inches further, but now matter how much he pushes, how much slithers out, his belly is always full to bursting as though it grows inside him just as fast as it's birthed. it swells tighter every time he stops to catch his breath, and he has to push twice as hard after to get it back down or else he'll burst.

oooo I love this idea!! Makes me think of the oroboros, or Jörmungandr.

Maybe when the gods want to have some fun they hold the serpent in, letting him swell until he's screaming and thrashing, begging them not to let him burst, then rip the serpent back out just before his tummy pops. Other times they push and squeeze his belly to anger the serpent, making it twist around inside him, throwing his belly to and fro with its powerful movement. The poor boy is helpless to stop any of this, all he can do is scream and beg and push though the never ending labor, nothing but a toy for the gods entertainment.

And just to add onto his misery, what if the serpent started out as the size of a normal sized snake right after it hatched inside him, but grew overtime until it's thicker then his own leg, and still continuing to grow. As he continuously pushes, he can slowly feel the snake getting larger, and it becomes more and more difficult to birth...

Giving them labor suppressants as soon as they feel the first cramp seizing their tight belly up. So everytime they feel like going into labor they need to ask you to give them their pills. They take a little time to work, so they need to ride out a few contractions before the contractions tone down.

The babies move lower and lower, soon they're always moaning and groaning with how overwhelmingly full they are. As weeks pass they need to take them more and more frequently. Their body is so ready to give birth, they beg you to finally let them give in but you want your babies to grow even bigger inside their poor tummy.

One day you need to leave the house for a couple of hours. When you get back home you find them already kneeling at the front door, holding their throbbing belly, trying to pant through a heavy contraction.

"They're coming, they're coming ... I can't hold them any longer ... please let me push ..."

But of course they're not allowed. You give them some suppressants and watch their labor stop, the first babies head already halfway into the birth canal.

Deleted the ask by accident but someone requested a gamer girl trying to hold off labor till she finishes her match

Fine

words: 275

content: birth denial, fpreg

“I’m fine,” she said to her family as she waddled down the stairs, swollen belly dropped so low it could be seen poking out of her oversized sleeping shirt. There was no hiding how winded she was, breathing heavily, face flushed.

When her belly seized up during breakfast, not for the first time, she winced and dropped her cereal spoon. The surface, taut, hot the the touch like a fever. Packed, brimming with babies.

“I’m fine,” she said, picking up her spoon.

She took a shower, hoping to soothe her aching back and contracting belly with warm jets of water, and instead she found herself doubled over, belly between her widespread knees, weighed by a deep, undeniable pressure. When she heard a concerned knock on the door, she managed a strained grunt:

“I’m fine.”

After she’d endured contractions throughout the entire day, the urge to push washing over her, belly reflexively clenching harder and harder, demanding she give in, she found herself sitting, legs open, in the recliner during family movie night. A blanket covered her lower half, hiding her misshapen belly, tight like a fist, and her soaked pink Hello Kitty pajama bottoms, beginning to bulge wetly outwards with a head. She was crowning. She had to push.

She bore down suddenly, letting loose a guttural groan that startled the entire family and set the dog barking excitedly. She pushed again, fluids spurting around the head, the deep, heavy weight moving down through her pussy. Her pajama bottoms strained. She stretched and then popped around the huge head.

She looked up, moaning, head lolling. Her family stared at her, open-mouthed.

“I’m fine,” she panted.

Its still not enough...

So Painful

How many babies in Mama's womb? 😳

Request 221-4

The swell of her belly was mesmerizing.

Standing in the bedroom, watching the writhing orb of his wife’s belly, Jaime stood motionless, his hand resting on the swell of his cock. He was always hard for her—always ready and willing—and as he watched her labour progress, he grew warmer, and wilder. They had come up with this plan together—had reached a tender agreement about the birth of their first child—and as he did every time he looked at her, Jaime wondered at his luck. He wondered at her tenacity, at her willingness to do the very thing he’d dreamed of since he’d been just a teenager, and he wondered at her love for him, so strong and so fierce. She had wanted to please him—Jaime knew it, beyond everything else—and he was selfish enough to let her, to allow their plans to come to fruition and to allow her suffering for his own perverse pleasure.

Panting and sweaty, his wife lay prone, fixed to the bed as she laboured through the night. Her belly was huge—it had grown much bigger in recent weeks and he could not help but touch it, so hard and so warm. The child within was writhing—he could see the bumps of arms and legs beneath her heaving, swollen breasts, halting with each contraction when the great orb constricted, forcing his child towards the opening between her legs.

The leather briefs she wore were tight, holding her to the bed with straps that he had fastened around her hips. Her arms were tied above her head, bound tightly to the posts on the overlarge bed, and with each new pain she writhed, pulling against her restraints. Jaime had covered her eyes, too—shielding them with a black scarf so she could not see—and her legs… oh, her legs.

Keep reading

Kate could feel it coming, the familiar pressure in her pelvis, the tightening of her overfilled womb, any moment now her water would break. Warm amniotic fluid would fish out of her like a geyser as her body tried once more to deliver her long overdue baby. It would happen just as it had nearly twice per week for just over three years. Once more, Kate would fight against her body and instincts. She would plug her pussy and grind on the arm of the couch, letting the pleasure and pain mix as she waited for her body to once again give her just a few more days of pregnancy.

It wasn't unheard of for women to have long pregnancies, sometimes even making them permanent, but they used drugs and medical procedures to do it. Kate was determined to set the record for the world's longest pregnancy, and she wanted to do it all natural.

The first year had been easy, her due date had come and gone, and her baby seemed content to let her carry it for a long time to come. Then, just as kate came to her thirteenth month, she had finally gone into labor. Her water had broken in her sleep, and her baby was crowning almost before she realized what was happening. She had used her bare hands to hold back the slick, crowning head desperately fighting her body as she pressed it inch by inch back into the embrace of her womb. By morning, her labor had ended.

Now, three years later, she had had a few close calls, but she had managed to keep her baby inside. She was so close to her goal of being pregnant for five years, but at the same time, she didn't want her pregnancy to end. Maybe she would try and make it to ten years. That way, she could be sure no one would ever beat her record. She rubbed the massive dome of her gravid belly and let out a sigh. Then again, what if she tried again, this time with twins or even triplets.

A huge shoutout and thank you to @darkdaisy1984 for letting me use her picture and giving her input on this story.

more to grow (chapter 2/4)

When her due date had gone and passed without progression, she started to get a little worried. It wasn’t that she was impatient to get them out. She loved every inch of her belly even despite the aching pain of her spine and ankles. She was dreading losing this voluminous body of hers for sure. She was, however, afraid that she might really be pushing out two 11 pound babies out of her vagina if she was going to grow them any longer. She didn’t want a c-section because she was deathly afraid of going under knives. Both her boyfriend and her doctor were on the same page about that note. 

That was why she cornered her boyfriend the night before she turned 42 weeks pregnant. “Fuck me like you mean it,” she threatened, crossing her hands over her chest.  

“Baby… haven’t I been doing that all this time?”

“It clearly wasn’t good enough,” she huffed, waving over the ever present mass hidden poorly under her silk robes. The floral fabric curtained both sides of her protruding bump like it was the grand present on a Christmas morning. “You’ll fuck me into I go into labour. No exceptions.”

“You’ll regret saying that,” he growled, ripping her robes off her shoulders. The silk fell to the floor, revealing the brand set of red lace lingerie she bought for her new double D breasts. It had taken one week to arrive and by the time tried it on today her breasts were already spilling over the cups. He practically drooled at the sight, exactly like she had planned. 

He swept her off her feet into his arms with ease like she hadn’t gained 90 pounds. He carried her to their bedroom and plopped her down on their mattress, pushing her face down so her ass perked up into the air. 

His large calloused palm spanked the flesh poking out from the criss crossing harnesses of her garter. It jiggled like a soufflé pancake and she almost teared out for pure pride. She grew that all by herself. People paid big money for BBLs to get a butt like hers, but her’s is all natural. He moved her thong to the side and plunged his large member down to the hilt without warning. 

Her back arched in response to the shock. “Yes, that’s it.”

Balls slapped against her juicy ass and heavy belly against her thighs. Her babies were squirming and jostling inside at the disruption to their home. She felt a sharp kick to her diaphragm causing her to gasp out loud. She couldn’t complain, because that meant they were head down. She hoped they were getting into position to get out. 

Her boyfriend continued to slam his large dick deeper and deeper into her vagina at a relentless pace. Pain mixed with pleasure and her mind floated away to the heavens. Her entire lower half felt like it was on fire. She couldn’t even tell where the sharp pain originated from until she realized her pussy was pulsing against nothingness. She whined at the loss of contact. She was so close to reaching her peak. 

Axel had pulled out and said, “Mina darling. I think your water broke.”

She lifted her woozy head around to see a darkened spot in the sheets. They finally did it. 

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One more of the near-infinite variety and quantity of ways I'd have you give birth for me is in the post-apocalypse.

You didn't realize you were pregnant when the dead rose. A few months later, you're nearing your due date in a world gone to hell.

I have stashes of food, guns, and various other supplies; when we ran into each other a while ago, you decided you'd be better off staying with me. You like the safety and security I can provide, and I like having you around for… other reasons. Not that you don't enjoy it too, of course.

We're holed up in the basement of a house, and you're deep in labor. We've barricaded ourselves in, and I've done my best to soundproof the place, but it'll still be better if you keep quiet.

Your moans fill the basement as I help you work through the contractions, letting you ride my thigh as you labor, rocking your hips back and forth and rubbing your damp slit against me. You feel so much pressure inside, it's maddening. You beg me to check you and I do, sliding two fingers inside as you angle your hips.

"You're at nine and a half," I pull my fingers out of you, "not quite yet."

"Fuck- So much pressure-"

"That's okay, I've got you. Can you give me little pushes? Just short, little grunts to help you open up the last bit."

You're already panting desperately as you try to hold back. You know that if you give in even a little, you'll be bearing down full force almost instantly. You shake your head, "No, I can't, please, I-"

"Shhh, it's okay, it's okay. Just keep breathing for me, then. It's just a little longer, and then you'll be able to push, okay?"

"No, I can't do this! I'm not ready!"

"Yes you can, you've got this. You're nearly there now. Hang on a little longer for me and then you'll be ready." I grip your hips and gently guide you backwards and forwards, encouraging you to keep rubbing on me to help relieve some of that pressure and distract you from your current situation.

Outwardly, I do my best to sound encouraging, but inwardly I'm a little worried about the noise you might make. I've done my best to soundproof things, but it'll still be safer if you stay quiet. There is a back door we can escape through, but I'd rather not have to use it under these circumstances.

I help hold your belly, encouraging you to keep breathing as you wait out the last of your labor. You beg me, again, to check you, and when I do I find that you're fully dilated. "Push, now. Let your baby come. I've got you."

You're scared. Scared of the pain that's to come. Scared of making too much noise. Scared of what taking care of a baby in this godforsaken world might be like. You can't fight your body, though, and you bear down hard, leaning forward and grunting with the effort.

I feel the head move down inside you, pressing against my fingers as you push. When you take a brief rest, I help you reposition to a squat to make sure the head will have room to come out.

You push again, and I put my hand over your slit, tight and small. "Come on now, bring your baby down." You push again, and I feel the head start to bulge your opening. "That's it, keep going."

You feel a sudden surge of pressure inside you. You have no choice but to roll with it, bearing down forcefully and suddenly. I feel the head lurch forward, filling my hand too suddenly to react. This sudden movement takes your slit from a slight discomfort, as the head starts to make you bulge, to a searing, burning agony in less than a second.

You cry out at the sudden pain, "AAAAAAH FUCK-" before you clamp your hands over your mouth. Your eyes water from the sudden stretch, but you keep your pain to yourself. Neither of us make a sound, listening intently to see if you have attracted any attention. The silence stretches on and on. You're far too scared to keep pushing, so you pant, as quietly as you can, feeling the head slowly slip back inside you. We're both about to let our guard down again when we hear it. A bang, a thud, another, then a few more. We're not alone anymore.

You feel your heart leap into your throat. They're here, and they're coming in, and it's because YOU couldn't keep quiet. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you cry quietly, "I tried to hold back, really, but now they're gonna get in and they're gonna eat-"

"Hey, hey, no. No they're not. We knew this might happen, right? That's what backup plans are for, in case exactly this happened. We'll be okay, but we have to get moving."

The backup plan could be broadly summarized as "get the hell out of here and go somewhere safe." While this sounds simple enough, it meant that we would have to cross through some rather dangerous territory, crawling with those things to get to any of our other safehouses. This would be a daunting prospect at the best of times, nevermind when one of us is in active labor, with a head already crowning.

We would have just a few minutes before we'd need to leave. I gather some essential supplies and help you get dressed: shoes, pants, a jacket - there isn't time for anything more as a loud crash signals our time to depart.

You do your best to try to move normally despite the overwhelming fullness between your legs. You feel like you should be waddling, or, better yet, squatting down right where you are and pushing your baby out, but you carry on regardless. When the contractions come, you breathe through them. Every part of you screams to stop moving and deliver right now, but the occasional sight of the dead wandering the streets and my insistent tugging at your arm both help keep you moving. You cup one hand over your the bulging head and press upwards whenever you can, shoving your baby back inside you. It's agonizing, and it always makes you stumble, but I'm there to help catch you and keep you moving.

This doesn't last forever, though. The more you're on your feet, the more intense and frequent your contractions get, and the stronger your body's urge to push becomes. You start leaning on me more and more for support with each contraction, and I do my best to pull you forward while you try to hold your baby in, pressing your hands upward against the head and panting away as much of the pressure as you can.

You're slowing down, but it shouldn't matter too much, we're nearly at our destination. We peek around the final corner, only to be confronted with the backs of a sea of the living dead. The distant sound of gunshots should've been our clue. Some idiots had broken into our safehouse and started shooting from the windows. They have sealed their own fate - there isn't nearly enough ammunition in there to kill that whole crowd - and possibly ours as well. There's another safehouse not that much farther away we can head to, but-

"I'm not sure I can make it," you groan. The pressure in your hips is just too much. You're leaning up against the wall, pushing as gently as you can, but you can still feel your baby starting to slide out of you despite your efforts. I can just barely get my hand over the head in time before you're bearing down fully, a hand over your mouth to muffle your moaning.

I keep my hand over the head, pressing firmly upward to counter the force of your pushing. "No," I glance around nervously, "not here, not now. Something could come around the corner at any second - we have to keep moving." You groan in protest as you continue to push, but when the contraction ends you understand that you really can't deliver here.

We set off again, but that last push seems to have opened the floodgates. The pressure in your hips gets stronger and stronger over time, and it's not too long before you're bearing down at least a little bit with each contraction. Sometimes it's so bad that you have to stop completely, panting desperately as I help you hold the head in as much as I can. Between contractions, you can feel your baby slipping just a little farther downwards with each step you can take. It's all you can do to slow the head down with your hand as it slides out of you, to try to make sure we don't have to stop too often.

As you start to slow down more and more, it becomes increasingly clear that we're just not going to make it to our destination, that we need to find somewhere closer for you to give birth. There's a small, two-story office building nearby - it should be relatively empty and have at least two exits - and we head for that.

The windows to the ground floor are all smashed, but after a little trouble getting you up the stairs, the second floor looks reasonably empty. We both want to take a minute to catch our breath, but your baby won't wait. Very soon you're squatting on the break-room floor with your pants around one ankle.

"Okay, I know you really have to push right now, but we're not really safe here. Let's try to keep this slow and quiet. Can you give me some light pushes for now?"

You shake your head as you bear down. Your body is not going to tolerate any more delays, it wants this baby out yesterday.

"Alright then." I cup my hand against your bulging slit, pressing against the head to give you more time to get used to the stretch. "Can you stay quiet like this?"

"Mm-hm." You bear down again, hard and silent, not letting even a groan escape. You feel your hole start to burn as the head stretches you open again and when your contraction ends you pant rapidly, breathing through the stretch.

"Good, good. You're opening up so well. Keep going just like that, slow and quiet. With the next contraction, I'm going to let the head out a little more. Let me know when it starts to stretch you too much, okay?"

"Okay."

You push again, and I let the head out slowly, watching your face. At first, you're calm and collected, but as the head starts to stretch you more and more I see you first wince and then throw your head back in pain. The head only makes it a little farther out before-

"Hold it."

I keep the head there while you finish your push, and for the next contraction as well, before you're ready for me to let it stretch you out a little more. We settle into a routine like that, easing the head out a little more with every other contraction, making no more than soft grunts and whispers in the process. Eventually, though, you can't keep up this rate of stretch anymore as the head continues to open you wider and wider.

"Owwwwwwwww," you moan softly after I try to let the head out before you're ready for it.

"Hey, baby, I don't think this is working anymore. I'm going to try touching your clit, to see if that'll help open you up."

I put my fingers on you, gently at first, and you gasp a little at the stimulation. Your clit is stretched out and oversensitive, and it doesn't take much before you start to moan softly. I shush you a little, but keep my fingers on you as you push again. You struggle and squirm, but you do manage to keep breathing quietly as the head moves out a little farther. I keep the head there until my fingers on your clit help you accommodate the new stretch, and you're ready for me to move my hand again.

The head slides out of you, stretching you bit by bit, achingly slowly. You're stretched so wide, your slit feels like it's on fire. You struggle to keep quiet, to keep your noises restricted to heavy breathing and soft moans, but the extremely slow way you've been stretching and the "help" I've been giving your clit has barely been enough to allow you to stay quiet.

"Haaaaaa- It burns so baaaad-" you whisper to me.

"I know, just keep breathing through it, okay? I'll help you take it nice and slow."

You still struggle, though, with the last little bit of the head. For all your breathing and clit stimulation, there's a point you just can't stretch past without making more noise than either of us is willing to risk. We stay like that for a long time, you squatting on the floor, breathing deeply to try to accommodate the stretch of the head, me with my hand between your legs, toying with your clit and pressing back against the head. It seems like we're stuck there, unable to just slide the last part of the head out and unwilling to force it.

Eventually, though, you start to feel something building up inside you. Despite all your pain, despite all your fear, my steady effort on your clit is starting to have an effect. I increase the pressure a little and you feel an orgasm start to build up.

"Okay, I need you to push when you cum. Whether you have a contraction or not, just bear down and get the head out, okay? That might be out best shot at getting the wide part out without making too much noise."

You agree to the plan before going back to breathing through the stretching of your slit. I increase the pressure on your clit again, and it's not very long at all before, between two contractions-

"Nnn- Cumming- Hnnn-" You push hard as orgasm washes over you. This time, I don't hold the head back and you feel it stretch you wider, wider, WIDER- OH GOD IT HURTS PLEASE- you jerk as the head pops out of you into my waiting hands, but don't let out more than a small grunt of surprise.

You're ready to push out the shoulders, but I stop you before you push again. "Wait, hang on a second. Let me-"

You pant heavily, feeling like the shoulders are about to slide out of you no matter whether you push or not, but you hold off for a minute, regardless. I decide to sacrifice my shirt to catch the baby with, to make sure they're not born onto the floor.

"Okay, push now."

You don't really push so much as just let the shoulders slip out of you, into my waiting hands. I help to pull a little, and the hips and legs slide out of you in short order. I wrap them - her as it turns out - up and hand her to you.

"Okay, let's get out of here."

Requested by and written for @bulgingpush Hope you enjoy - Me

stuck at work, one baby, didn’t know they were pregnant, with a partner?

Sorry again that this came out so long, got a bit carried away.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! And sorry it took forever

Mmh, I’ve been so bloated recently, I should’ve just called out today. Maria thought as she took heavy steps towards her office cubicle. Taking a small detour, she steps into her husband’s cubicle, and he gives her a sympathetic smile. 

“You doing alright hon? You told me you had some back pain this morning, I was hoping you’d call out…”

“Me? Call out? You must be crazy! I’m on the brink of a promotion, I can feel it!” She exclaimed excitedly, a glint in her eye. 

Bit of a hypocrite aren’t I? She chuckled to herself, an impish smirk never leaving her full, red lips. I’d do just about anything for this promotion though, I’ve worked far too hard and far too long to let this opportunity slip now.

“If you say so… but after we clock out we’re going to urgent care, deal? Your stomach’s scarily tight.” He mumbled, giving her distended belly a small pat. 

“Deal, I agree, this needs to be checked out,” Maria mumbled, leaning down and planting a kiss on her husband’s forehead. “Love you hon, see you in a bit.” Leaving their little moment there, she began the long and difficult journey to her cubicle across the office. Cupping her hands under her overly stretched stomach, she waddled slowly across the office floor, getting the occasional worried smiles and waves from her coworkers. It really is embarrassing that I’m stuck waddling like this. Whatever this fluid buildup is, I’ve let it fester too long. I’ll let Nick take me to urgent care after work. Halfway to her cubicle, her whole body tensed up, belly and back gripped in a tight contraction. “Mmh fuck, the pressure’s a good bit worse than I thought…” She mumbled aloud to herself. “Just gotta make it through this shift and I can get it taken care of, just one shift.” Ten minutes and two contractions later, she finally arrived at her cubicle, panting heavily and sweating through her thin white shirt. With a shaky breath, she slowly sat herself down in her chair, sliding up to her desk to finally begin work. 

Now two hours into her workday, things were getting worse. The pressure in her middle had reached a peak and now resided uncomfortably between her legs. Her contractions became increasingly frequent and painful, beginning to bring her workflow to a full stop every five or six minutes. She dismissed the easily visible movement on the surface of her stretched skin as a rough gas buildup, though deep down she knew she was lying to herself. Now drenched in sweat and in desperate need of some water, she grabbed her empty water bottle and slowly climbed to her feet. Immediately she almost collapsed to her knees, doubling over with the force of her latest contraction. “God, I must look like a psycho…” Maria mumbled through clenched teeth, hunched over in her cubicle with slightly spread legs. “Pressure’s getting bad, I feel like I can’t close my legs… just have to finish the shift, then we can go get this fixed.” The reassurance of the shift end seemed further and further away as she staggered down the hall to the nearest water fountain. Almost crying out, Maria shot her hand out to the wall for support, keeping the other firmly pressed into her distended orb of a stomach. She could feel eyes on her back and could hear mumbling from the surrounding cubicles. They’re worried about me. Probably think I’m pregnant… Am I pregnant? She shook her head, scoffing at the idea. “Of course not, this is just a rough stomach bug and a fluid buildup, probably an intestinal block of some kind.” Lifting her hand from the wall, she began once again taking wide-legged, slow steps to the fountain. 

Maria’s breath hitched as she leaned over the fountain, using one shaky hand to hold her bottle in place, and the other to hold her up as her knees grew weak. “I’m not pregnant, it’s just a bloat, I’m not pregnant, it’s just a bloat, I’m not prEG-!” Involuntarily dropping into a squat and white-knuckling the lip of the fountain, she let out a low groan as the worst pain yet gripped her like a vice. The contraction built, stronger and stronger, more and more painful until finally…

*Pop*

Fluid poured out of her, soaking her panties and short work skirt. A pained and embarrassed cry left her as the contraction finally let up, leaving her crouched in a large puddle of murky liquid. She stared in shock as the musky scent of birth fluid hit her nose. “Fuck, the carpet. I’m gonna be fired, or at least fined.” She groaned, rubbing her palms against her eyes in frustration and roughly grabbing her half-full water bottle. The trip back to her cubicle was slow and painful. Pelvis feels tight, I can’t close my legs… surely I’m not? Her thoughts were interrupted by a staggering contraction, forcing her to double over and let out a low moan. Something within her stretched open, and she felt something large enter her birth canal. “No, no I can’t be…” Ignoring the contraction and fighting a new feeling -the overwhelming urge to push- she staggered her way back to her cubicle, letting out a low groan as she eased herself onto the floor, feeling like the chair would be unbearable. “Just need to make it through this shift, if I can hold it for six hours…” As another contraction and the realization that she still had six hours to go crashed down onto her, she couldn’t stop a strangled cry from exiting her tired, hoarse throat. Out of desperation, she let herself push, quickly feeling a mass press against her lower lips. Letting out a low grunt as the contraction ended, she slid a hand under her skirt. Maria felt the slimy sensation of her fingers making contact with her baby’s head, nearly crying out in shock. I need Nick, I need him now, I can’t do this on my own! Slowly hauling herself off the floor, she took slow and heavy steps, whining with each footfall. Every step bounced her baby, slowly dropping it lower and lower until she felt her lips begin to part. Her pace was slow, she was barely halfway to her destination when she doubled over, dipping into an empty cubicle and groaning loudly, pushing hard with her contraction. Her lips parted and began to burn as her baby stretched her open, further and further until she let go of the push, her baby’s head slipping all the way back in. With a frustrated groan, Maria waddled out of the cubicle, no longer worried about how disheveled she looked, or how she reeked of sweat and birth fluid. All she cared about in that moment was getting to her husband’s cubicle, and having her unexpected baby. Finally, with a relieved sob growing in her throat, she saw her husband’s cubicle come into view. This relief was short-lived, however, as the latest contraction forced her to her knees with a yelp. Her pussy bulged obscenely under her panties as her unwanted child came to a full crown. “NICK! NICK I NEED YOU!!” Desperate shouts and sobs escaped her throat as she pushed against her will, her panties stretching to their limit but keeping her baby securely locked in the ring of fire. Her screeches echoed through the whole building, audible on the floors above and below, causing the walls of the closest cubicles to tremble. 

Nick poked his head out of his cubicle, wondering what all the commotion was for. Down the hall he spotted his wife, screaming out a baby he didn’t know she was pregnant with. “Jesus Christ, I knew something was up…” He was out of his office and by her side in an instant, taking her hand and giving her a worried look. “Maria, baby, what do you need me to do? How can I help.”

“Panties… OFF PLEASE!” She shrieked desperately, locked into another push. Frantically, Nick attempted to peel her soaked panties off of her, getting them down to her knees just in time to watch the head of his unexpected firstborn come flying out of his wife. 

“Shit, babe our baby’s right here, don’t push yet, their shoulders need to rotate, I know that much,” Nick muttered anxiously, smoothing his hair back and removing his tie. 

Thank god you watch a bunch of hospital dramas, without them we’d be totally in the dark. Maria thought momentarily, giving her husband a brief loving glance as he jumped into action, checking around their baby’s neck for a cord and shakily guiding the shoulders into a smooth rotation. The next contraction came and went as Maria whimpered and shook with the effort it took not to break down into her animalistic urges. Finally, she was given the go-ahead from her husband. 

With a titanic effort and a bloodcurdling shriek, Maria bore down with every ounce of strength left in her body, feeling her most delicate parts stretch to their limits and then some. She felt a pop and heard Nick shout something about a shoulder, but she couldn’t hear him over her noises. She felt a second pop, then a large release as her baby slipped out of her and into her husband’s waiting arms. A small crowd of her coworkers had formed, all letting out relieved sighs, a few attempting to applaud as she and her husband shared a sobbing embrace.

“Some stomach bug huh?” Muttered Nick with a grin. 

Every preggo kinkers wet dream...