Lauren winced as she took off her bra and sighed once she was free of it. She made a mental note to go out the next day and by a maternity bra- her breasts were steadily growing already in her 19th week of her pregnancy. They were already heavier than she was used to, and just big enough to make her old B cup bras feel uncomfortable. It was to the point where she was ready to renounce bras all together, but some instinct in her warned that she may not feel that way in the later months to come, so she would keep wearing them.
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.
When the pool was finally filled, the taps shut off automatically, and Laura began undressing herself. She dropped her sweatpants and wet panties to the ground and pulled her white shirt off. She left her bra on to keep her swollen breasts from sagging onto her belly. She slowly went down the steps into the water, clutching her belly. She wasn’t nervous about giving birth alone, since she found herself immune to pain her whole life, though, she had to admit, these contr
Staring at the tiny being in his hands, Sherlock seemed in shock, almost unsure of what he had just witnessed. Then as its face scrunched and let out a tiny cry, he could feel his breath catch. She was actually here. The thing that Sarah and John had made together, that once gray bean in the sonogram photo on Mrs. Hudson's fridge, the creation that had sent John into the most interesting cravings and mood swings (he had analyzed every single one), was a living, breathing person...
Niso shook his head quickly. "You have to push it out, the head's out Francis!" He said, reaching into the water and holding the baby's head still with one hand, his other holding Francis' swollen stomach. "Push!” "Tch..!" Francis gritted his teeth. He quickly drew breath, biting back a cry as his anal muscles contracted, sealing itself around the baby's neck.  The next time he pushed, a fresh peal of pain bloomed in his anus from when both the baby's shoulders were battering against his opening. The grip on his knees weakened as shooting pains radiated up and down his spine, his teeth baring as he pushed, hard. “Just one more..” Francis muttered darkly then heaved, feeling the baby's shoulder slide all the way out before it was followed by the rest of its body. Dazed, he fell back and panted in exhaustion. Niso quickly caught the baby and pulled it out of the water, surprised to see it didn't have an umbilical cord. He held it close to himself and looked at Francis, shock on his face that Francis had just given birth.
It didn’t come but he could hear the doctors and nurses voices take on a note of alarm. He saw Jason’s face, blurry above him, and knew he was urging him to hold on even though he couldn’t hear the words. He felt the doctor’s hands leave his body but before he could be grateful another pair landed on his abdomen, grazing the tip of his bloated penis, and started pushing down.
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