It was the stench that woke her. The smell of musk and decay taking her from pleasant dreams. She looked unhappily about. The cell she was trapped in was cold and damp and the short chains bound to her wrist bit deep, letting scars heal from past self-inflicted injuries.  She could only guess at how long she had been kept a prisoner and it wasn't wasn't by etching each hopeless day upon her cell walls. She looked over her naked body with disgust, her eyes stuck upon her now swollen belly. She was in her third trimester her captives claimed. Thus she estimated she had been here a little over nine months. She bit back tears as memories flooded with renewed vigor. Though the days had long passed when the men would enter her cell and take her, ravaging her until their seed had planted, she dreaded this time the most.
"Fuck you!" The girl spat, forcing herself not to give into her urge to push. The men around her laughed as she fell back against her bed panting. She couldn't stop nature though and she grunted as her vagina bulged out, the opening becoming a tear-drop shape. The men cheered watching the opening become wider with each contraction until finally the head was crowned. The woman before her massaged her lips to help them stretch as the baby's head pushed further out. The woman frowned as the girl screamed. The head was bigger than she expected. She pushed the girl's lips away from the head ordering her to push harder. "Uuuaagg!" She cried out, her face reddening from effort. "OH it burns! It burns!" She cried as the infants head stretched her wide. Her hair stuck to her sweat coated skin and she bore down. She tore as the eyes and nose were pushed out. She screamed in pain as her blood flowed mixing with the amniotic fluids which spurted around her child.

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...!"
Niso put his hands between Francis' legs, holding the baby's head now. "Keep pushing Francis." He urged him, looking into the murky water where the baby's head was. The water had gotten more pink from the birth fluids coming out."Push, Francis." He said, looking up at him now with a frown. "You're doing it." He said, reaching up and rubbing at Francis' contracting stomach, feeling the muscles stain under his touch.
The slightest of smiles crossed Jim's face. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." he said before returning to his phone call. "So if you have what you say you have," he said back to the person on the cell phone as he proceeded to calmly walk out of the room. "I'll make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes..." And with a snap of his fingers, the snipers disappeared and it was all over.
Suddenly, Francis felt the ring of fire return as his anus slowly bulged and stretched around the baby's head. His chest burned and he paused to draw breath but too late, the head had slipped back inside. Get back out here!" Niso felt helpless. He could only stay by the pregnant male and offer just the smallest relief. His hands kneaded the knots in Francis’ heaving flank and lower back, easing some of the pressure. “You're doing it, just keep pushing. It's already crowned Francis." He kissed the laboring male’s shoulder and temple as encouragement then shuffled back to check Francis' entrance. Niso was able to make out a tuft of dark hair poking out as the baby started to crown, and knew it would come out quickly if Francis gave a hard push.

The Cursed Egg of the Wyvernic Part 1Galadra never expected her first pregnancy to end like this. As wife to the Crown Prince, she was of course expected to bear an heir and secure the line of succession. So it was no surprise that almost a year after being wed she became pregnant with the Prince's egg and there was much celebration. Even Toric, an intense and reserved man, expressed his joy. She found herself loving her pregnant body as did the Crown Prince who could not keep his hands off her. The egg grew within her and all looked forward to the joyous event.  Everything went so calmly, until her ninth month...


It was the stench that woke her. The smell of musk and decay taking her from pleasant dreams. She looked unhappily about. The cell she was trapped in was cold and damp and the short chains bound to her wrist bit deep, letting scars heal from past self-inflicted injuries.  She could only guess at how long she had been kept a prisoner and it wasn't wasn't by etching each hopeless day upon her cell walls. She looked over her naked body with disgust, her eyes stuck upon her now swollen belly. She was in her third trimester her captives claimed. Thus she estimated she had been here a little over nine months. She bit back tears as memories flooded with renewed vigor. Though the days had long passed when the men would enter her cell and take her, ravaging her until their seed had planted, she dreaded this time the most.
Niso gripped the pregnant male's shoulders to keep him calm, nodding. "Your water just broke Francis, just breathe and push." He said soothingly, reaching down to rub at Francis' stomach. Wordlessly, Niso guided Francis, leaning him as far back as possible before his head was under water to give as much space needed for the baby to pass through. "You have to push on the contractions!" He stressed, looking down at Francis' swollen stomach and frowning worriedly. Francis whined and gripped Niso's hand tightly, terrified. He was there for both his labours and he'd seen what birth was like. "Nnnhh...N-No.." He shook his head weakly, "Make it stop!..Hurts!" His anus felt so full, stuffed painfully with pressure he couldn't release. Sweat poured from his brow. He thrashed in the waters, hands frantically clutching at the rims of the tub for support while he hoisted his torso out of the bath, and strained. "Ahh...ahh...H-help..!" Francis cried out, groaning as the baby's head engaged his rectum, shredding the muscular tissues.

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.
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. 
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