Gentle hands eased him back in the bed, Arthur’s hands. Those same hands propped pillows behind him, helped him to sit up then gathered their son from his cradle and carefully passed him to Merlin. It wasn’t until the baby was in his arms that Merlin realized just how profoundly weak he still was. He could barely lift his arms up to hold his son. He trembled with the effort and felt a tear roll down his cheek. He made a pathetic mother.
WARNING:This short story contains some sensitive subjects. If you don't prefer Yaoi, Descriptive Sex Scenes, or Mpreg, this is not the story for you, and you have been warned. Also, if you do not like this sort of thing, I would ask you not to comment just to state this fact. Keep it to yourself, because you chose to read it, even after reading the warning.
Mpreg ElevatorMark, a pregnant male teenager, was in his second trimester of pregnancy. His belly was huge and round. He was abandoned by his partner so he decided to raise his child alone. He started going to a yoga class for pregnant males. He made new friends. They were separated into classes with the same months of pregnancy they were in. He went twice a week and stretched with his pregnant buddies. He loved going because it really relaxed his body. He went day after day and reached his third trimester. He was 9 months pregnant with his first child. He was excited for his baby to come. Every day he would let his baby listen to music, hear stories, and he bought baby clothes. He was ready for the baby to come. He went to his yoga class like any other day and talked to his friends. They would feel each other's bellies. The instructor came in and got them ready. The classes were about an hour each. It was over and Mark and his friends went into the elevator to get to the first floor. CRASH! The ele
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.
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.
"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...
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.
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...!"
The sunlight shone into a deep green bedroom, from the floor to the bedspread and the walls around them.  Amidst them rose a high hill, shifting around slightly. But the sheets slid down, revealing the hill to be a very pregnant womb, stretched to the limits by four babies, healthy and ready to be born any day now according to the last appointment. In fact, the doctor was impressed Clare had been able to carry them so long, considering she was at the equivalent of a little over 9 months for quadruplets and she was warned to take it easy, and not do anything especially strenuous, which she reluctantly agreed to, usually a very active person. But this morning, she was filled with more energy than usual, hefting herself out of bed with a grunt and waddling as quickly as she could to pee, the babies pressing hard on her bladder as expected, taking up so much space in her as they did. Afterwards, she checked the clock, seeing that she still had a few hours before dinner and decide
Gentle hands eased him back in the bed, Arthur’s hands. Those same hands propped pillows behind him, helped him to sit up then gathered their son from his cradle and carefully passed him to Merlin. It wasn’t until the baby was in his arms that Merlin realized just how profoundly weak he still was. He could barely lift his arms up to hold his son. He trembled with the effort and felt a tear roll down his cheek. He made a pathetic mother.
There are a pair of grogeous teen girls who live next door to me. Lauren and Amy were the same age as me and we've all been through school together. As we have grown up and hit our teens, I've found myself sexual attracted to the girls, and they also felt the same way. During our early teens we spent most of the time doing the "You show yours, I'll show mine" situations, but never had sex.

“Yes. I wasn’t pining for Gwen. That morning when I woke up with you wrapped around me…I realized it was really you I’d wanted all along. And I felt horrible because I knew you’d only been with me because you felt sorry for me, because you are the best friend I could ever ask for. You wouldn’t turn me away when I was hurting and it was so damn selfish but I wanted to keep you and I knew…I thought that I couldn’t.”
There are a pair of grogeous teen girls who live next door to me. Lauren and Amy were the same age as me and we've all been through school together. As we have grown up and hit our teens, I've found myself sexual attracted to the girls, and they also felt the same way. During our early teens we spent most of the time doing the "You show yours, I'll show mine" situations, but never had sex.
Not Your Typical PrisonerThe gavel came down with a loud thud. "The defendant, Jonathan Randoll, is sentenced to a 16 year prison sentence without chance of parole." I looked at my feet thinking of the life that would be wasted. At only 18, I wouldn't get out until I was 34 years old. It all started when I was growing up in a tough neighborhood. Desperate for protection, I joined a gang and was forced to do some initiation crimes. Over time I had been caught stealing and this was the third strike, meaning that I was not going to be spared when it came to sentencing. I knew I had to keep my poker face, though, because some of the gang members were in the courtroom and I couldn't show my fear, my frustration with where my life had gone.
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. 
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