Merlin drifted in and out of consciousness, catching snippets of conversation as he did. None of it made much sense and nothing could hold his attention for long. There was another contraction, more sleep and then yet another contraction. He would wake up while the pain gripped him and then fall back to sleep in between. He was vaguely aware of a hand in his when the pain was on him. He held onto that hand as to a lifeline as he thrashed in agony but was strangely oblivious to the person attached to the hand. It wasn’t until his pains began to come too close together for him to sleep in between that he realized the hand he’d been holding was Arthur’s. He dropped it like a hot coal when he became aware.
“I know and I’m sorry for that. I’d never have hurt you, Merlin. I was…well, I was in shock. And yes, I was angry. You told me you hadn’t ever planned to tell me about the baby. You weren’t ever going to tell me I had a son. I mean, I was mad about the lies and the magic but it really hurt that you were planning to never tell me that you were having my baby.”
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.
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.
“Of course, sweetheart, anything.” He jumped to his feet and said, “I’ll be right back.” Rushing into the kitchen, Jared fumbled through the drawers, throwing on the floor what he didn’t need in search for a water bottle. He figured if he filled a giant water bottle, he wouldn’t have to leave Jensen’s side for water again. With his contractions becoming closer and closer together, he didn’t want to miss one and make Jensen go through it alone.
Francis eyes widened. He could die? He shook his head fervently and blinked back tears as he tried to centre himself for the next contraction. He focused on the intense burning sensation in between his legs and willed the baby to move downwards. When the next contraction came, Francis scrunched his face in pain and shuddered violently. His toes curled and he flung his head back, crying out as both shoulders crashed through his anus. He panted hard then pushed again, gasping the moment his baby slipped free.
Jared would have laughed at the irony, except the situation wasn’t funny at all. Throughout the whole pregnancy, Jared had been the calm one, the one to provide reassurances when things were going bad, the one who always knew what to say. Now when it really mattered, when the moment of truth stormed in on them, and their baby was demanding to be introduced to the world, Jared was the one freaking out and relying on Jensen for reassurance.
Mpreg Part2/3Brett woke up and saw her sleeping. He felt better but whenever he moved his belly jolted with pain. He was afraid something bad happened to his baby. He set aside the thought and brought a blanket and draped Vicky. He went into the kitchen and was starting to make dinner when his belly was tight. He rubbed it to ease the pain but it still hurt every now and then. Vicky woke up to smell burning. She quickly got up and looked around through the thin layer of steam. She saw Brett laying on the kitchen floor coughing. She ran over to him and checked if he was okay. She saw the stove burning on fire. She grabbed the fire extinguisher and blew out the stove. After a few minutes the steam was starting to go away. She helped him on the couch and noticed he was in pain coming from his stomach. She massaged his belly and looked up at him. "DONT DO ANY WORK!! From now on I will!! You got me WORRIED!!" Vicky looks away and starts crying. "V-Vicky. I'm sorry. I just wanted to help." "Well don't."
Francis choked back a scream then bore down hard. He raised his hips instinctively, grinding his teeth together as the baby lurched a couple inches forward, viciously spreading his ass cheeks further and further apart. "Gyahhhh..!" Francis roared and pushed again. His muscles were pulled taut and he could feel the baby struggling, its large shoulders twisting and grinding into his anus but stalling just behind the puckered rim. He whimpered, "N-Niso..."Niso nodded and looked up at him. "Just keep pushing, you can do it just push Francis!" He coached him, helping to spread Francis' legs further apart. "You can't stop now, please just push!" Niso snapped lightly, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes at the labouring male. "You'll die if you don't finish giving birth!”
It was just as he was pressing the 'SEND' button that a pained cry of "Sherlock! It's coming!" came from the other room, sending his heart racing with nerves. Quickly, he grabbed the last thing, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubbed some into his hands before heading back. Running back into the room, he stopped short at the sight of John perched on the edge of the bench; his lower body already undressed as he pushed with what was left of the contraction, his face flushed red from the exertion. It was surreal for Sherlock to see; John, his only friend, going through what as an Alpha he could only imagine (and had no desire to experience for himself) but handling it with the calmness and determination of...well...a soldier. The contraction over, his whole body seemed to go limp as he let his head lean forward, his eyes distant as he attempted to relax.
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.
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.