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.
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.
Arthur growled wordlessly and Gaius subsided. Merlin lay still, wasted in the wake of his latest pain and wondered for the first time if he really had the strength to do this. He’d been undernourished for months, at first unable to hold onto anything he ate and later unable to force much of anything down his throat. He’d always been skinny but he didn’t think he’d ever been this thin before. He’d observed plump, healthy women, glowing with vitality killed off by the process of childbirth. He was about as far from healthy he could get. This was only his third contraction and he could already feel himself succumbing to exhaustion. He didn’t try to fight it; it was just so much easier to give in to the tug of sleep. Merlin was barely aware of the bed dipping beside him and a rough hand grasping his own in a gentle grip before he was lost to the darkness of sleep.
Pain hit him like a fist in the chest at Gaius’s words. It was so unexpected he gasped from it and Gaius looked at him sharply knowing it should be too soon for another contraction. Merlin shook his head and rolled over onto his side giving the old man his back until he could compose himself. Only there was no composure to be found. He couldn’t stop the tears that welled up in his eyes and spilled out onto his cheeks.
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.
"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.
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...!"
Jeremy sat at the table in silence, Alyssa, one of his best friends sitting across from him. He had been against the blind date from the beginning since he was worried that his nerves would cause him to go into labour, and that it would force poor Matthew, his date, to take him home or to the hospital before they even got to know each other. He was already a week past his due date, and he knew it wasn't smart to be out and about in his condition, but he also felt as if he would go insane if all he
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.
"Her name." John explains. "Sarah and I decided that we were going to name her Nora." And he held his breath in wait of Sherlock's response. He remembered the grief that Sherlock had given him when he and Sarah were deciding on names for their son, Rory; how they couldn't have come up with something more unique. This coming from a man named Sherlock who has a brother named Mycroft... Sometimes it was nice to be normal. And darn it if he was going to let Sherlock change... On the other hand, it felt so fucking good. He’d not been aware enough – or too focused on other agonies elsewhere – to realize they’d put some sort of pump on his cock and it was milking him like a farmer’s hand late for a date. At some point the nurse, the one who never had wiped that stupid grin off her face, had started gently massaging his swollen balls and it was both the best and worst sensation ever.