Jack swung down hard with the axe splitting the piece of wood almost perfectly in two. He liked chopping wood, it helped him forget. Forget things like dropping out of his residency to help care for his elderly parents way up in the mountains. At least up here there was not a hospital or even a clinic around for miles to remind him of his abandon career of becoming a doctor. Now that his parents finally past on Jack was left with a stalled life and a mountain home that was not selling. As he placed another log on the chopping block he saw a snow flake fall on his hand, great he thought another storm! There goes my chances of getting into town today.
“NNNGhh..” Francis felt himself opening more and more, his skin stretching over the baby's head and he panted haggardly as it slipped out further than before. Suddenly the burning became unbearable and he felt his anal muscles recoil while his inner sphincter wrapped tightly around the baby's neck. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and he squeezed Niso's hand.

Niso nodded as he held the baby up and was grabbing one of the towels he'd brought from the bathroom, cleaning it off. "It's out Francis, it's out." He said, looking up at the younger male. "Is that...is that all of them?" Niso asked meekly, swallowing a lump in his throat. He doubted Francis was up for another birth. He laid the baby once it was cleaned and wrapped up with it's siblings, looking over the little babies before he turned his attention back on Francis again. "Oh, thank goodness." Francis hung his head and grunted tiredly. His fingers trailed over his newly deflated stomach and pressed just above his pubic bone, feeling for any hardness. "I-I think so." When Francis found none he shook his head. A soft sigh escaped his mouth as he crawled over to Niso and laid his head in his lap, hands reaching out to clutch at the older male's shirt. After a few seconds, the young man broke down, sobbing quietly. He was utterly exhausted, his body physically spent of energy.
"Lay one of the towels...on the floor..." was the next instruction from John, his breathing deepening as the next urges started to build. Sherlock had just managed to spread the towel out when John could no longer fight and gave into the urge to push, his body on autopilot now as it directed his actions. Instinctively, his hands reached for Sherlock's arms and sensing that this was what John needed now more than anything, he allowed John's fingers to squeeze painfully tight into his shoulders. John's green eyes then match up with his own gray ones and lock, showing unrelenting focus for nearly a full minute as he forced the baby further down.
Mike was down on his luck. Being 21, without a job and kicked out of home when his parents had enough of him, he was spending most of his time hitch hiking from town to town doing small jobs for some spare cash. He was a relatively thin boy with dark hair. He could be a model if he paid attention to the groom plus if he had more money to by better clothes.

Though Amy did have a very feminine body; she often tried to hide her wide hips and bust with baggy pants. She never wanted to admit it, but of all the girls the witch picked, she was the one with the ideal body for having children. Her desire to be more masculine fought against her female hormones that come with pregnancy and childbirth. Part of her wanted to embrace this feminine side she had. Part of her was grateful for her feminine body shape and ability to create life.
Sherlock's heart lept into his throat. This wasn't supposed to happen. John's due due was still three weeks away and he had already from day one made perfectly clear that he didn't want to be anywhere near when 'it' decided to make its appearance. "I...I'll drive you to St. Bart's..." he stammered, unsuccessfully hiding the trace of fear in his voice.
 BirthDrake awakes to a bright light shining in his face,To the sound of metal clanging and some sort of strange melancholic buzzing spiraling throughout the room,Like a hoard of angry bumble bees. He groans as he tries to sit up,Wondering what's happened when he suddenly feels resistance,and looks down to see he is strapped to a table. His eyes go wide as he struggles against the restrains,Trying to free himself,But he only hears a solemn laughter emit from the room,And there,from within the dark shadows of the far corner of the room,A man appears. Medium height,Spiked Brown hair,Goggles in his hair. He wears green gloves and a lab coat,Holding two medieval looking devices in his hand. They look like the shapes of swords,With a swirl at the end,And electricity shocking from them at the speed of light. He laughs menacingly,and all Drake can do is slink back onto the table,Shaking with fear as the man grows closer,Soon the man is practically breathing down Drake's face,and he speaks,Speaks wi

He was right. Who knew if the snipers were still there or not? Bending over, he allowed John's arm about his neck as he got him to his feet before beginning the agonizingly slow walk to the dressing rooms. It seemed that John could only walk so far before having to stop to breathe through contractions that were now right on top of each other. And it hurt Sherlock nearly as much to see John in that much pain. Why Omegas chose to do this at all seemed completely illogical to him... Desperate to ease some of the pain, he pulled John close to him; letting his head rest against his chest and swaying together until John decided to move again. And from the look on John's face, it was the best thing he could have done. It was during one of these 'dances' that Shelock was alarmed to discover that John was now trembling under his touch even though he couldn't possibly be cold.
Danny and BrieDanny paced back and forth clutching his swollen belly as Brie warmed the water in the birth pool. His contractions were about seven minutes apart and getting closer together each time they happened. He was actually more bothered by trying to walk with such wide hips swaying back and forth. He didn’t know how girls could do it, and wasn’t used to this female body shape even after over nine months of it.
My most recent fantasy involves twilight sleep, a horrible practice from the 1950’s and 60’s where women were given a mix of drugs during labor and delivery that made them forget the whole experience. It was said to relieve pain but, in fact, the women were suffering natural labor and delivery, just too drugged out of their minds up to make any sense out of the whole thing. 
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