"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.
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!
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.
Merlin listened in dismay. He really didn’t want Arthur present for this, didn’t think he could stand to have Arthur pressed up against him under such humiliating circumstances. He’d witnessed enough births to know exactly what was likely to happen to him. He certainly didn’t want Arthur, of all people, to witness to his tears, to hear his cries, to watch the other indignities that were likely to be inflicted on him.
BirthDrake awakes to a bright light shining in his face,To the sound of metal clanging and some sort of strange melancholic buzzing spiraling throughout the room,Like a hoard of angry bumble bees. He groans as he tries to sit up,Wondering what's happened when he suddenly feels resistance,and looks down to see he is strapped to a table. His eyes go wide as he struggles against the restrains,Trying to free himself,But he only hears a solemn laughter emit from the room,And there,from within the dark shadows of the far corner of the room,A man appears. Medium height,Spiked Brown hair,Goggles in his hair. He wears green gloves and a lab coat,Holding two medieval looking devices in his hand. They look like the shapes of swords,With a swirl at the end,And electricity shocking from them at the speed of light. He laughs menacingly,and all Drake can do is slink back onto the table,Shaking with fear as the man grows closer,Soon the man is practically breathing down Drake's face,and he speaks,Speaks wi
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.
Jeremy sat at the table in silence, Alyssa, one of his best friends sitting across from him. He had been against the blind date from the beginning since he was worried that his nerves would cause him to go into labour, and that it would force poor Matthew, his date, to take him home or to the hospital before they even got to know each other. He was already a week past his due date, and he knew it wasn't smart to be out and about in his condition, but he also felt as if he would go insane if all he
The sudden squeak of rubber soled shoes on polished floors signaled that apparently sick, demented cow noises, was a good clear signal to trained medical staff that a baby was arriving imminently. Jared moved out of the way of the flurry of arriving staff, to the head of the bed where Jensen had managed to partly drape himself as he pushed and strained to deliver their baby girl.
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.
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 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.
It felt like he was watching a movie as he saw the doctor cleaning out his son’s mouth and nose. Jason beamed as their little boy, Jackson was almost certainly going to be his name, was nestled into his arms by a grinning nurse. Distantly, he wanted to hold him too but the mere seconds of relief following his exit had disappeared and the pain was back with a frightening intensity.