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.
"It's normal... We're getting close..." John replied, already knowing where Sherlock's mind was going. At last, the dressing room. Gingerly swinging the door open, he loosed his grip on John long enough to shove a large stack of chairs in front the door, keeping any potential snipers out of the room for the time being. He'd figure out what to do if they started shooting when they come to it. Leaving John on a bench, he hurried into a side room, grabbing the items that John had instructed him to get; towels, a first aid kit, anything he thought they'd need. Of course, he did manage to take a moment to type out a frantic text to Mycroft.
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.
"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...
“NNNGhh..” Francis felt himself opening more and more, his skin stretching over the baby's head and he panted haggardly as it slipped out further than before. Suddenly the burning became unbearable and he felt his anal muscles recoil while his inner sphincter wrapped tightly around the baby's neck. Tears sprang unbidden to his eyes and he squeezed Niso's hand.
Even drugged out my mind, this is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. My poor, ravaged hole is forced to stretch even further as his fat wrist widens the tear at the bottom. My overworked cervix is still contracting even as he digs around in my uterus for what seems like hours. I’m shrieking, pleading for him to stop ripping me apart. I just know I’m about to die – and I’d welcome it if it means an end to the agony. Finally, he tugs the baby out and, in my medicated state, I allow myself to imagine it might be over. That fantasy is quickly dashed as he pushes his hand back inside and starts digging around for the placentas. I’m shaking so hard the nurses have to hold me down as he roots around in my wrecked pussy for another 15 minutes. By the time he’s done I’m almost unconscious from the long labor, the pain, the whole horrible ordeal. The last thing I hear before passing out is a nurse commenting on my bruised, gaping cunt, saying that it will definitely never be the same.
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.