Amy's Story - part 1Amy laid back as the contractions worsened. She could feel the baby moving down into her hips and moaned in pain. Leshia was there to help her, but it was somewhat of an embarrassment. Amy barely felt female at all on the inside, and if it wasn't for that witch's gender spell, she would never had been pregnant in the first place. As far as she was concerned, the only thing that made her predicament acceptable was that she had female genitalia.
Huge baby, born breech, with the head stuck inside the mother. The doctors put her out and use no less than seven instruments – forceps, scalpels, scissors – to hack away at her vulva, pulling, pushing on her stomach, wrenching her legs wider until finally the head comes free. I don’t know what the doctor is doing at the end, punching his whole hand into her horribly ripped slit, but it’s for damn sure she woke up after it was all over, screaming for pain meds and unable to sit or walk for weeks! 
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...

Since they were born, both Mistoffolees and Victoria had experienced everything with each other. Facing exile once the tribe found out that they were the offspring of the infamous Macavity, being adopted and raised by Bustopher Jones, and now, they were both mated to two toms that they were madly in love with, Victoria to Plato and Mistoffolees to Tugger. What really caught them off guard was when they both revealed to each other that they were pregnant. Misto wa


“Thanks,” he gratefully sighed as Jared helped him wiggle his way out of his sopping wet sweatpants and underwear. He’d barely been in the rain, but it was enough to have left him soaked. Jensen raised his arms, and Jared pulled his shirt over his head, helping him struggle into the dry one, once he was completely naked. “Can you grab the pillows off the couch, and the blanket?”
Danny and Brie were an odd couple. For one thing, Brie was tough and serious, yet also sweet on the inside. Danny could be easily mistaken for a lesbian. He had a bowl-shaped boyish haircut and a very feminine face. He wasn’t muscular at all and had very narrow shoulders like a girl. But Brie had the most unusual attribute, for she was a witch, and had the power to switch one’s gender or sex role. That is, she could take the genitals of a boy and a girl and switch them. In this scenario, the girl would be on top during sex.
I’m in transition for almost an hour, the contractions hard and constant. At one point they put me on oxygen because I’m hyperventilating from not remembering to breathe between screams. Then I start to feel the intense pressure of needing to push, which I do for almost forty minutes before the searing pain of my first baby’s head stretching my formerly tight hole hits me. It’s a looooong crowning, followed by stubborn shoulders that spread me so wide I could swear my pelvis is breaking.
A Beautiful BirthAnother powerful contraction took hold of her – the strongest one yet.  She gasped at the intensity of it and breathed deeply into it, letting out a low moan as she relaxed her chin against her chest.  She was leaning back against her husband in an inflatable kiddie pool of body temperature-warm water which came up to just under her naked breasts.
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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