Then he hurried over to the bathroom, picking up both swaddled babies from the floor and returning to the bedroom, laying them on the large bed next to their bearer. Francis moaned and wriggled weakly on the bed. His strength was spent. Francis threw an arm over his forehead and inhaled sharply as another contraction rolled over him. He was so tired. All he wanted was to sleep, and erase the last four hours. He turned his head and gasped loudly when his muscles tensed again, biting into the duvet to muffle his cries. Niso sat on the bed and watched him, gripping at his hand lightly now. There wasn't anything he could do but sit there with him. Sighing, he shook his head, wondering when Francis would next give birth and how many more he'd be having. Francis buried his face in the pillow. His soft cries became more urgent as he curled in on himself, clutching his heaving abdomen. His insides felt like they were being ripped open. "Nnnggh..!"With the next contraction he squeezed Niso's hand, hard enough to bruise. His back arched off the bed as the baby suddenly shifted and the horrible pressure in his pelvis returned. Francis groaned and rubbed his stomach furiously, feeling his muscles seize and contract against his will. This was not his body anymore; he had no control. Niso gritted his teeth but didn't say anything, allowing Francis to squeeze his hand. "Is it coming yet?" He asked, frowning as he watched Francis continue to writhe on the bed. Using his free hand, Niso tried to keep the other’s legs spread wide, hoping the nightmare would be over soon with the final birth or births. Francis whined, struggling to loose himself from the covers. He wanted to be on all fours but his legs were tangled and plastered to the bedsheets by sweat and birth fluids. He rolled over to his side and looked at Niso. "N-Need to get up.." Francis managed to gasp out before he concentrated on his breath. This time the pain was so strong it felt like knives were being twisted inside his gut. He latched onto Niso's arm and tried to haul himself upwards, wheezing, when suddenly his stomach clenched and a gush of fluids splashed down his legs. Francis shuddered. "AHHHHHHHHHHH...!"
WARNING: This short story contains Minor Language, Mpreg, and Descriptive Labour and Birth Scenes. If you do not prefer any of these, than this is not the story for you, and I would recommend that you not read it. Especially if all you wish to do is comment on how much you think Mpreg is disgusting and wrong. If you have anything against this story, you can note me. I would prefer not to have comments that do nothing but start flame wars.
Birthday Roses - Part 3Tia awoke to a flurry of activity within her womb; opening her eyes slowly, she gave her belly a greeting pat. “I guess I better get used to you waking me up early, huh, baby?” she smiled, stretching languidly. Rolling over onto her other side, she was startled to find her husband nowhere in sight. The pillow beside hers was cold and empty. “Nate?” she called out. There was no response.
Not Your Typical PrisonerThe gavel came down with a loud thud. "The defendant, Jonathan Randoll, is sentenced to a 16 year prison sentence without chance of parole." I looked at my feet thinking of the life that would be wasted. At only 18, I wouldn't get out until I was 34 years old. It all started when I was growing up in a tough neighborhood. Desperate for protection, I joined a gang and was forced to do some initiation crimes. Over time I had been caught stealing and this was the third strike, meaning that I was not going to be spared when it came to sentencing. I knew I had to keep my poker face, though, because some of the gang members were in the courtroom and I couldn't show my fear, my frustration with where my life had gone.
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.
I’m a young, first time mom, heavily pregnant with triplets. I arrive at the hospital in early labor, deposit my husband in the waiting room, and am shaved, given an enema, and catheterized before any medication is administered. Once the meds start to take effect, my legs are strapped into stirrups and my arms tied to the side of the bed. For the next twenty hours, I writhe and scream in agony as the contractions get increasingly stronger. It feels like by body is being ripped apart but I’m too out of it to remember my own name, much less than I’m pregnant and in labor. The nurses mostly ignore my crying and moaning, casually chatting about their weekend plans as they make sure my restraints are still in place despite my desperate bucking.
He couldn’t remember any more words after that. Just the pain and the struggle and the warm, strong bulk at his back. It held him up, rocking with him as he fought to push his baby out. The voice was there, he could remember hearing it but there were no more words, just the soothing tone of it. Merlin fought with all he had to stay awake, to strain, to push. Finally one last push and a scream of effort and it was done. He could hear his son crying and he sagged back against the warm, firm cradle of the body behind him and knew no more.
When I wake up, I remember nothing but, even with the ice packs on my poor pussy and anus, I’m in terrible pain. My insides are sore from the contractions and it feels like someone shoved something huge up there. My tits are full and aching, my arms and legs sore from pulling on the restraints. I ask every nurse I see if something horrible happened during my labor and delivery because feeling like this simply can’t be right.
Merlin eyed the angled seat of the birthing stool with misgivings. Yes, he knew that it was supposed to ease a woman’s confinement but he wasn’t really a woman. Still, the child would come in much the same way. He just wasn’t sure he had the strength to endure the contractions and keep himself upright as the stool was exactly that-a stool. It had no back, no support of any kind. He knew that usually a laboring mother would lay her legs along the flared wings of the seat and rock herself back and forth until the child came but usually a midwife was there to use her body to strengthen the straining mother. Who would help him? Gaius was amazingly vigorous for a man of his age but he wasn’t really sturdy enough to take Merlin’s weight for that long.
The second baby comes quickly, far too fast for my bruised, aching cunt hole. By the time the shoulders come out I’m sobbing in agony, pleading for the pain to end. The doctor, ready to go home, jerks the baby out too fast and causes a deep, angry tear all the way to my asshole. I whimper and moan as I wait for the final baby to come but, despite the hard contractions and my body’s innate attempts to push, it doesn’t. Finally the impatient doctor has had enough. He snaps on an elbow high glove and plunges his hand deep inside me.