I get on my bicycle when a terrible ache increased in my lower stomach. I rubbed it to ease the pain. Ignoring it and I rode on my bicycle to the first stop. I rang the doorbell and delivered it to the gentleman that came out. I turned around to get on my bike when a sharp pain caused me to fall to my knees clutching my stomach. I moaned and breathed through the pain. After it was over, i got on my bicycle to the next stop. Meanwhile I did, I felt a burst of fluids draining from my
It was three weeks until his due date and they were holed up at home due to the presence of Hurricane Irene. Their little home was far enough inland that the damage wouldn’t be too severe and they wouldn’t have to board up or anything like they did in Florida, but it was bad enough that weathermen were expecting downed trees and probable power outages.
It wasn’t long, barely 8 minutes since the last one, before another contraction forced a strangled moan from Jensen, his head falling towards his chest, face scrunched up in pain. “Breathe, honey, don’t hold your breath,” Jared coached him through it. He fell back against the pillows, a slight hitch in his breathing. Jared comfortingly ran his free hand through Jensen’s hair.
Mpreg ElevatorMark, a pregnant male teenager, was in his second trimester of pregnancy. His belly was huge and round. He was abandoned by his partner so he decided to raise his child alone. He started going to a yoga class for pregnant males. He made new friends. They were separated into classes with the same months of pregnancy they were in. He went twice a week and stretched with his pregnant buddies. He loved going because it really relaxed his body. He went day after day and reached his third trimester. He was 9 months pregnant with his first child. He was excited for his baby to come. Every day he would let his baby listen to music, hear stories, and he bought baby clothes. He was ready for the baby to come. He went to his yoga class like any other day and talked to his friends. They would feel each other's bellies. The instructor came in and got them ready. The classes were about an hour each. It was over and Mark and his friends went into the elevator to get to the first floor. CRASH! The ele
Francis bit his lips, shaking his head. "..No," he answered truthfully. His whole entire backside ached and he was also having difficulty regaining breath, his swollen womb was placing too much pressure on his diaphragm. Groaning, Francis rubbed one hand over his stomach and held the other to the middle of his back where the pain was strongest. Whining and groaning, he rested his chin against Niso's shoulder. "I think..I wanna get out..c-change positions.."Niso nodded and looked down at him, wrapping his arms around him to help him up. "Alright, back to the bed?" He asked softly, helping to lift Francis up out of the tub. He could tell from the swell of Francis' stomach that the younger male wasn't done, and he cringed at the thought that Francis might not have the motivation to keep pushing. Francis pressed his lips together. "Y-Yeah. But hurry, I can feel it moving down.." He let Niso help him to his feet, swaying a little as he spread his legs and shuffled towards the bedroom, his waddle especially pronounced now. A new bolt of pain laced through him each time his hips were jostled. They were barely to the bed when another contraction tore down his lower back and abdomen, forcing a surprised cry from his lips. His legs trembled and he practically fell into Niso's arms.
When he woke, he was back in Arthur’s bed. He opened his eyes and glanced around. He wanted his son, the urge to hold him, to see him, was overwhelming. Before he could begin to panic though, his eyes fell on the cradle beside the bed, and he leaned over the side in order to get his first glimpse. All he could see was a tuft of golden hair and a wrinkled little face. He nearly fell off the bed trying to scramble out of it.
"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.
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.
WARNING: This story contains male pregnancy, female pregnancy, minor language, and extremely descriptive, if not graphic, labour and birthing scenes. If you are not a fan of any of these subjects, than I would prefer if you not comment on my story, just to start flame wars and explain to the world how certain things, like mpreg, are disgusting and sinful. That is only your opinion, and there are some people that actually enjoy things like this, so please keep your opinions to yourself.
Merlin listened in dismay. He really didn’t want Arthur present for this, didn’t think he could stand to have Arthur pressed up against him under such humiliating circumstances. He’d witnessed enough births to know exactly what was likely to happen to him. He certainly didn’t want Arthur, of all people, to witness to his tears, to hear his cries, to watch the other indignities that were likely to be inflicted on him.
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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