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.
"Lay one of the towels...on the floor..." was the next instruction from John, his breathing deepening as the next urges started to build. Sherlock had just managed to spread the towel out when John could no longer fight and gave into the urge to push, his body on autopilot now as it directed his actions. Instinctively, his hands reached for Sherlock's arms and sensing that this was what John needed now more than anything, he allowed John's fingers to squeeze painfully tight into his shoulders. John's green eyes then match up with his own gray ones and lock, showing unrelenting focus for nearly a full minute as he forced the baby further down.

Glancing back, Sherlock gave a quick look at John who looked rather pained while doing all he could to stay calm. But of course John had a lot more to worry about. Instinctively, his arm was wrapped protectively around the large bump that contained his and Sarah's second child; a girl this time. She had already faced death three times in the past few minutes (once being his own fault...) and she wasn't even born yet; he wasn't about to let her face it again.


Niso put his hands between Francis' legs, holding the baby's head now. "Keep pushing Francis." He urged him, looking into the murky water where the baby's head was. The water had gotten more pink from the birth fluids coming out."Push, Francis." He said, looking up at him now with a frown. "You're doing it." He said, reaching up and rubbing at Francis' contracting stomach, feeling the muscles stain under his touch.
He was right. Who knew if the snipers were still there or not? Bending over, he allowed John's arm about his neck as he got him to his feet before beginning the agonizingly slow walk to the dressing rooms. It seemed that John could only walk so far before having to stop to breathe through contractions that were now right on top of each other. And it hurt Sherlock nearly as much to see John in that much pain. Why Omegas chose to do this at all seemed completely illogical to him... Desperate to ease some of the pain, he pulled John close to him; letting his head rest against his chest and swaying together until John decided to move again. And from the look on John's face, it was the best thing he could have done. It was during one of these 'dances' that Shelock was alarmed to discover that John was now trembling under his touch even though he couldn't possibly be cold.

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.
WARNING: This short story contains Minor Language, Mpreg, and Descriptive Labour and Birth Scenes. If you do not prefer any of these,  than this is not the story for you, and I would recommend that you not read it. Especially if all you wish to do is comment on how much you think Mpreg is disgusting and wrong. If you have anything against this story, you can note me. I would prefer not to have comments that do nothing but start flame wars.
"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.
WARNING: This story contains male pregnancy, female pregnancy, minor language, and extremely descriptive, if not graphic, labour and birthing scenes. If you are not a fan of any of these subjects, than I would prefer if you not comment on my story, just to start flame wars and explain to the world how certain things, like mpreg, are disgusting and sinful. That is only your opinion, and there are some people that actually enjoy things like this, so please keep your opinions to yourself.

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.
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.
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...!"
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
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.
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.
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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