Don’t Mind Me, Just Fantasizing About Feeling My Baby Getting Painfully Low Into My Pelvis During A

Had an erotic dream set in an aquarium, where my partner and I spent the entire trip fantasizing about them getting pregnant by different large sea creatures.

I dont think that's much to ask.

pretty girl forced to sit down while she's crowning and told to not complain about how much it hurts when the baby's forced back in <3

Birth fetish blog only

18+

stuck at work, one baby, didn’t know they were pregnant, with a partner?

Sorry again that this came out so long, got a bit carried away.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! And sorry it took forever

Mmh, I’ve been so bloated recently, I should’ve just called out today. Maria thought as she took heavy steps towards her office cubicle. Taking a small detour, she steps into her husband’s cubicle, and he gives her a sympathetic smile. 

“You doing alright hon? You told me you had some back pain this morning, I was hoping you’d call out…”

“Me? Call out? You must be crazy! I’m on the brink of a promotion, I can feel it!” She exclaimed excitedly, a glint in her eye. 

Bit of a hypocrite aren’t I? She chuckled to herself, an impish smirk never leaving her full, red lips. I’d do just about anything for this promotion though, I’ve worked far too hard and far too long to let this opportunity slip now.

“If you say so… but after we clock out we’re going to urgent care, deal? Your stomach’s scarily tight.” He mumbled, giving her distended belly a small pat. 

“Deal, I agree, this needs to be checked out,” Maria mumbled, leaning down and planting a kiss on her husband’s forehead. “Love you hon, see you in a bit.” Leaving their little moment there, she began the long and difficult journey to her cubicle across the office. Cupping her hands under her overly stretched stomach, she waddled slowly across the office floor, getting the occasional worried smiles and waves from her coworkers. It really is embarrassing that I’m stuck waddling like this. Whatever this fluid buildup is, I’ve let it fester too long. I’ll let Nick take me to urgent care after work. Halfway to her cubicle, her whole body tensed up, belly and back gripped in a tight contraction. “Mmh fuck, the pressure’s a good bit worse than I thought…” She mumbled aloud to herself. “Just gotta make it through this shift and I can get it taken care of, just one shift.” Ten minutes and two contractions later, she finally arrived at her cubicle, panting heavily and sweating through her thin white shirt. With a shaky breath, she slowly sat herself down in her chair, sliding up to her desk to finally begin work. 

Now two hours into her workday, things were getting worse. The pressure in her middle had reached a peak and now resided uncomfortably between her legs. Her contractions became increasingly frequent and painful, beginning to bring her workflow to a full stop every five or six minutes. She dismissed the easily visible movement on the surface of her stretched skin as a rough gas buildup, though deep down she knew she was lying to herself. Now drenched in sweat and in desperate need of some water, she grabbed her empty water bottle and slowly climbed to her feet. Immediately she almost collapsed to her knees, doubling over with the force of her latest contraction. “God, I must look like a psycho…” Maria mumbled through clenched teeth, hunched over in her cubicle with slightly spread legs. “Pressure’s getting bad, I feel like I can’t close my legs… just have to finish the shift, then we can go get this fixed.” The reassurance of the shift end seemed further and further away as she staggered down the hall to the nearest water fountain. Almost crying out, Maria shot her hand out to the wall for support, keeping the other firmly pressed into her distended orb of a stomach. She could feel eyes on her back and could hear mumbling from the surrounding cubicles. They’re worried about me. Probably think I’m pregnant… Am I pregnant? She shook her head, scoffing at the idea. “Of course not, this is just a rough stomach bug and a fluid buildup, probably an intestinal block of some kind.” Lifting her hand from the wall, she began once again taking wide-legged, slow steps to the fountain. 

Maria’s breath hitched as she leaned over the fountain, using one shaky hand to hold her bottle in place, and the other to hold her up as her knees grew weak. “I’m not pregnant, it’s just a bloat, I’m not pregnant, it’s just a bloat, I’m not prEG-!” Involuntarily dropping into a squat and white-knuckling the lip of the fountain, she let out a low groan as the worst pain yet gripped her like a vice. The contraction built, stronger and stronger, more and more painful until finally…

*Pop*

Fluid poured out of her, soaking her panties and short work skirt. A pained and embarrassed cry left her as the contraction finally let up, leaving her crouched in a large puddle of murky liquid. She stared in shock as the musky scent of birth fluid hit her nose. “Fuck, the carpet. I’m gonna be fired, or at least fined.” She groaned, rubbing her palms against her eyes in frustration and roughly grabbing her half-full water bottle. The trip back to her cubicle was slow and painful. Pelvis feels tight, I can’t close my legs… surely I’m not? Her thoughts were interrupted by a staggering contraction, forcing her to double over and let out a low moan. Something within her stretched open, and she felt something large enter her birth canal. “No, no I can’t be…” Ignoring the contraction and fighting a new feeling -the overwhelming urge to push- she staggered her way back to her cubicle, letting out a low groan as she eased herself onto the floor, feeling like the chair would be unbearable. “Just need to make it through this shift, if I can hold it for six hours…” As another contraction and the realization that she still had six hours to go crashed down onto her, she couldn’t stop a strangled cry from exiting her tired, hoarse throat. Out of desperation, she let herself push, quickly feeling a mass press against her lower lips. Letting out a low grunt as the contraction ended, she slid a hand under her skirt. Maria felt the slimy sensation of her fingers making contact with her baby’s head, nearly crying out in shock. I need Nick, I need him now, I can’t do this on my own! Slowly hauling herself off the floor, she took slow and heavy steps, whining with each footfall. Every step bounced her baby, slowly dropping it lower and lower until she felt her lips begin to part. Her pace was slow, she was barely halfway to her destination when she doubled over, dipping into an empty cubicle and groaning loudly, pushing hard with her contraction. Her lips parted and began to burn as her baby stretched her open, further and further until she let go of the push, her baby’s head slipping all the way back in. With a frustrated groan, Maria waddled out of the cubicle, no longer worried about how disheveled she looked, or how she reeked of sweat and birth fluid. All she cared about in that moment was getting to her husband’s cubicle, and having her unexpected baby. Finally, with a relieved sob growing in her throat, she saw her husband’s cubicle come into view. This relief was short-lived, however, as the latest contraction forced her to her knees with a yelp. Her pussy bulged obscenely under her panties as her unwanted child came to a full crown. “NICK! NICK I NEED YOU!!” Desperate shouts and sobs escaped her throat as she pushed against her will, her panties stretching to their limit but keeping her baby securely locked in the ring of fire. Her screeches echoed through the whole building, audible on the floors above and below, causing the walls of the closest cubicles to tremble. 

Nick poked his head out of his cubicle, wondering what all the commotion was for. Down the hall he spotted his wife, screaming out a baby he didn’t know she was pregnant with. “Jesus Christ, I knew something was up…” He was out of his office and by her side in an instant, taking her hand and giving her a worried look. “Maria, baby, what do you need me to do? How can I help.”

“Panties… OFF PLEASE!” She shrieked desperately, locked into another push. Frantically, Nick attempted to peel her soaked panties off of her, getting them down to her knees just in time to watch the head of his unexpected firstborn come flying out of his wife. 

“Shit, babe our baby’s right here, don’t push yet, their shoulders need to rotate, I know that much,” Nick muttered anxiously, smoothing his hair back and removing his tie. 

Thank god you watch a bunch of hospital dramas, without them we’d be totally in the dark. Maria thought momentarily, giving her husband a brief loving glance as he jumped into action, checking around their baby’s neck for a cord and shakily guiding the shoulders into a smooth rotation. The next contraction came and went as Maria whimpered and shook with the effort it took not to break down into her animalistic urges. Finally, she was given the go-ahead from her husband. 

With a titanic effort and a bloodcurdling shriek, Maria bore down with every ounce of strength left in her body, feeling her most delicate parts stretch to their limits and then some. She felt a pop and heard Nick shout something about a shoulder, but she couldn’t hear him over her noises. She felt a second pop, then a large release as her baby slipped out of her and into her husband’s waiting arms. A small crowd of her coworkers had formed, all letting out relieved sighs, a few attempting to applaud as she and her husband shared a sobbing embrace.

“Some stomach bug huh?” Muttered Nick with a grin. 

People occasionally ask me about the origins of my pregnancy/birth kink, and I just remembered something that I think was pretty crucial.

When I was in middle school I read the book “FEAR,” the fifth installment in a series by Michael Grant. It was honestly a bit too dark, gorey, and violent to be considered a young adult novel, but I digress.

Near the end of the book is a scene where one of the main characters is pregnant, and her pregnancy is accelerated by the external force of a powerful alien. She’s tired and scared to give birth but is forced to do so in a cave deep underground. I’d send the pages but I don’t have the book anymore, sadly.

This is the first and only time I’d ever read about a rapid pregnancy, and I think it really captivated me.

So yeah. Food for thought. Has anyone else ever read this book?

What if: space birth

Astronaut doesn’t realize she’s pregnant and has to give birth on the ISS. No gravity at all, no position to make it easier, hundreds of miles away from any help. Maybe she even tries to hide it so she won’t be demoted. Maybe it’s not even possible for her to give birth on her own in zero gravity and the other astronauts have to find increasingly more extreme or even nonsensical ways to help her. Maybe the baby is in a weird position since there is no up or down in space. Maybe she’s not even pregnant with a human baby, maybe I changed my mind and it’s a sci-fi setting now and she’s giving birth to some kind of alien, or aliens, and once aliens are involved, the sky’s the limit!

Space birth.

ITS FINALLY DONE!

sorry it took so long lol but here’s the reward for the animation drive I had months ago! Thanks once again to everyone who donated <3

7 for the prompts, maybe a car birth?

I love a car birth, it’s such a good trope! Thanks for the request. Apparently my brain isn’t capable of simply writing a regular car birth, had to add a little twist- it’s not technically a car. Enjoy :) [3k words, fpreg, clothing birth] Prompt: “I don’t think the baby is gonna wait that long…”

We All Scream For Ice Cream

My contractions had started this morning and after three kids perhaps I should have known better. Yes they were consistent but they weren’t strong and were completely manageable. I’d called my parents to tell them my labour had started and they came to collect the kids so I didn’t have to worry about watching over them as I laboured. I spent the morning pottering around the house doing laundry and some cleaning, working through the steady waves whenever they washed over me. But after a while I started getting frustrated being inside the same four walls; I needed some air and space. It was the height of the summer holidays and you were up and out early for work to maximise our income during your busiest time of year. I knew you’d only taken the ice cream truck to the local park, you stopped going too far afield as I got closer to the end of this pregnancy - you wanted to be close in case I needed you to come home. I decided a nice walk through the park would do me good and would help with the contractions. Plus it gave me a chance to see you and let you know baby number four was on the way.

The breeze felt wonderful on my hot and clammy skin as I waddled my way down the residential streets cupping the underside of my heavy baby bump. If I pressed into the stretched skin just above my pubic bone I could feel the head of the baby sitting extremely low, perfectly in position and ready to be born. I was excited to tell you I was in labour again, maybe you could finish work early today and come help me through it this afternoon when it would inevitably ramp up.

I suffered a couple of contractions on my way to the park but they didn’t phase me - after three births I was all too familiar with the tightening and contracting of my muscles. I simply stopped, bracing my hands against a neighbours fence or a nearby street lamp, and swayed and hummed my way through them, letting the waves wash over me.

By the time I reached the park I was getting pretty hot and sweaty, but it was a warm day in the middle of summer and I was 9 months pregnant. Overheating was just par for the course. I saw your truck parked on the opposite side of the field next to the kids play area. I never thought this park was very big but right now, with my labouring belly, the journey across the green seemed a mile long. I sat on a bench to catch my breath before making the journey, watching you hand ice creams to all the kids and families that filled the park. You had such a sparkle in your eye as you handed the ice cream to its recipient, seeing the glee and excitement in each and every child’s face when they got their summery treat.

A contraction tore me away from watching you, its sharp and insistent pain coursing through my hips and legs. “Hoooooo… take it easy there…” I softly said, rubbing the large circumference of my belly as the baby kicked and shifted even lower.

A stranger walking by asked if I was okay, but with the look of panic in their face I told them it was just a kick. I didn’t get the feeling they’d handle it well if they knew a labouring mother was out here on her own in the park. After the contraction was over I awkwardly pushed myself up, cupping my low belly, and started walking over the luscious green grass. A long queue had formed for ice cream, you were busy rushing around the truck getting lolly’s out of freezers or adding sprinkles to soft whips. You didn’t have the time to notice my approach.

I thankfully didn't have a contraction as I waddled across the park but I could feel one coming as I approached the truck. I hurried past the line and nipped behind the vehicle, only just managing to make it away from the crowd before the intensity peaked. I quickly planted both palms against the truck and leaned into the contraction, taking deep long breaths, in and out, bracing through the pain and breathing the baby down. My hips were circling instinctively and I was glad no one was on this side of the ice cream truck as it would be very obvious I was in labour.

I waited for the line of customers to go down, riding out a few contractions during that time, before I rounded the corner and stood in front of the window.

“What can I get- Honey! What are you doing here?” Your eyes lit up and you broke into a wide smile, surprised but happy to see me.

“I thought I’d come and say hi.” I said, one hand rubbing my tight stomach.

“Where are the kids?” You asked, seeing that I was alone.

“With my parents.” I answered with a knowing smile, waiting to see if you’d put the pieces together.

“With your…. Wait, are you-?” Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you looked directly to my very pregnant belly.

“Yup, I’m in labour. Contractions started this… this m-morning…. Hoooooo” Another wave creeps up on me and I’m forced to grab on to the little shelf at the bottom of the window, hands gripping tight as the pain lances through my body.

You jumped out the back door of the van and were standing behind me in an instant. You held my hips and squeezed hard, pressing into the pressure points that would ease the pain, knowing exactly what I needed from our previous births. I let out a soft and grateful moan as I relaxed back into you.

“Oh honey, you could have just called, you know.” You laughed and kissed the back of my neck.

“I like seeing your reaction… hoooo…. when I tell you I’m in labour.” I manage to say, though the pains were starting to make it difficult to speak.

“What, so you can see me panic?! You’re evil, you know that.” You joked affectionately.

When the contraction faded you released your grip and I turned around, your arms quickly wrapping around me.

“Baby number four eh. So what was your plan after coming to tell me?” You said in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“I figured I’d go back home, and then call you when things get more serious.”

“How long do you reckon for this one then?”

“I dunno. It’s definitely progressing faster than the others.”

“How fast?” You arched an eyebrow and looked down at me with concern.

Before I could answer, another contraction struck. My hands laced around your neck and I buried my face in your chest, unable to contain the groan from my throat.

“Jeeze, hun, that was quick. It's okay I’ve got you.” You added, feeling my knees dip slightly. “Just ride the wave, deep breaths.”

I couldn’t speak, consumed by the heavy weight that was sinking lower and lower and lower…. My hips circled and bounced, my fingers tightly gripping each wrist as I practically hung off your sturdy frame. Your hands were on my ribs holding me steady. Groaning rumbled my throat, getting deeper as the pressure in my pelvis skyrocketed, and the noise ended with a grunt.

“Fuck, babe - was that a push?” You asked with panic, surprised at just how deep into labour I was.

“No…. I don’t think so but- hoooooo- there’s so much pressure. Baby feels really low-oooohhhhh!” I whimpered.

“Have your waters broken?” You asked and I shook my head against you in response.

“I don’t think this labour is going to last as long as you think, judging by those sounds.” You warned, your thumbs affectionately rubbing my ribs while you held me steady.

“Hooooo…. I swear it wasn’t this b-bad when I left the house…. Feels like it’s come out of nowhere.” I say, feeling the pain dull enough for me to stand on my own and release my arms from your neck.

“Well they do say it gets quicker with each birth. Right, I think we need to get you back home. Then we can pick up the hospital bag, jump in the car and drive over there.”

“I… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk back home…” I admit, holding my bump with both hands, the weight and pressure felt constant even without a contraction.

“Okay… erm… I’ll take us back in the truck?” You suggest hesitantly.

“What? No way. There’s only a driver's seat - what am I supposed to do - get in the back with the soft serve?” I gripe with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s only a few minutes back to our house. You got any better ideas?”

Another contraction steals any response I could make and I’m suddenly hunched over, hand bracing my thighs, and groaning behind closed lips. You offer your arms as support but I wave them away, the combination of heat & pressure overwhelming, I didn’t want to be touched. Instead you jumped in the truck and I could hear you banging around, closing freezer drawers and locking cabinets, but it was all background noise to me. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, the pressure between my thighs was worsening making me grunt. My fingers gripped my legs and I pushed my hips backwards, my body acting solely on instinct. Before the wave of this contraction was over I felt something give, my legs squatting, and a puddle started to form at my feet.

“Ooooohhhhh honey- my waters have broken…” I grunt out. Gosh, I could feel the baby’s head on my cervix and I really started to worry about how long we actually had before our fourth child made their appearance.

“We need to get going, babe.” You said jumping out the van and coming over to support me. We waited for the contraction to fade and you then helped me crawl into the truck. I was glad to be wearing my maternity leggings and a thin top; it made manoeuvring into the vehicle much easier than if I was in one of my summer dresses.

“Right, I’ve locked everything away so it all should stay put on the drive, you won’t get covered in ice cream don’t worry.” You try to joke as I huff and puff my way into the cramped truck. “Why don’t we get you sitting down on the floor..?” You suggest, climbing in after me to try to help me get comfortable.

“Ooohhhh no… can’t sit down. Baby too low… fuck.” Crawling on my hands and knees I settle near the large rectangular freezer that was directly under the window booth. Staying on my knees I sit back on my heels and rest my arms on my legs, my bump sitting between my widened thighs. “I’ll just… stay like this. Drive carefully though…”

“Of course I will, precious cargo.” You said with a smile before giving me a kiss.

You shut the back doors of the ice cream truck behind you when you left, ran around to the driver’s seat and quickly started the engine. “Hold on sweetie, we’ll be home soon.” You said, putting it into gear and setting off.

We barely made it out of the park and onto the tarmac road before the next contraction struck, and without my waters it soon became apparent just how close this baby was to being born. Leaning forward and grasping the top ridge of the freezer in front of me, I tried to breath through the building pressure that was pulling and squeezing my insides. My moaning was instinctual at this point, my body’s way of riding the crashing waves of pain. Whether it was the motion of the truck or my kneeling position, but something triggered a need to push. At the end of each groan I could feel my body bearing down.

“H-how long to get to the h-hospital once we get h-home?” I stutter.

“Hospital is about 35 minutes from our house. Why?”

“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long…. Hooooo…” I breathe, hips lifting and rocking in circles just above my feet. “Go straight to hospital, don’t go via home….”

“But we don’t have any of the stuff, for you or the baby?” You question, but still follow the instruction immediately altering our journey.

“Doesn’t-matter-nnngghhhhhh!” I gruff out before lowing deeply, bearing down again, my knuckles turning white with my grip on the freezer.

“Are you pushing??!!!” You shout.

“Can’t-help-it-”

“Shall I pull over?” You panic at hearing the familiar sounds of me pushing a baby down.

“No! Just- hospital- now!” My head dips as the wave ends and I try to catch my breath in between contractions.

We were still navigating the residential streets so thankfully weren’t going fast, but that meant we were still a way off from the hospital outside of town. My knees wide on the floor and arms stretching up gripping the fridge were the only thing keeping my body and my mind grounded. I closed my eyes, taking long deep breaths and disappeared into myself. Stay calm, you've done this before, I told myself.

“How we doing?” You asked nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Just… drive…” I exhaled heavily, preparing myself for the next wave to hit.

And hit it did; suddenly every part of my being squeezed and screamed at me to push and I had no choice but to comply. My legs widened as far as they’d go, I pulled my body closer towards the fridge, lifting myself up and hanging off the ridge with my forearms. The head was starting to peek through, I could feel it, and there was no way I could hold off from bearing down. My hips tilted backward and I pushed with everything I had. A long and guttural moan sang from my lungs as I pushed, the head slowly crowning into my underwear. We weren’t going to make it!

“Stop!!!!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

“But-”

“The head-is-coming out…. Pull over now!”

The truck rocked and shuddered as you brought it to a halt. You sprang from the driver’s seat and on your way accidentally switched on the jingle sounds of the ice cream truck, the tune ringing from the speakers on the roof.

I barely noticed the doors to the truck being opened and closed, or you climbing inside - all my energy was focused solely on getting this baby out of me.

“What can I do?” You frantically asked, but only got more guttural noises in reply as I continued to bear down.

Releasing the push with a huff, I panted quickly saying “I think it’s crowning… hoooo…”

“We need to get those leggings off babe. Are you able to move? If you can get on all fours I should be able to roll them down.” You were as white as a sheet but you squashed your fears, knowing I’d need assurance and confidence right now.

Following your instructions I moved to all fours, and I soon felt your hands around my waist pulling at the tight fabric trying to roll it over the large bump and down my thighs. We had to stop part way for another contraction and another round of pushing. The baby’s head was stretching me so wide and I could tell it must be showing through the fabric when I heard you gasp.

“Oh my god, the head is coming out!” You exclaimed.

“I know that! I can feel it.” I snipped sarcastically.

“Sorry honey. You’re doing amazing. But I still need to get these leggings off you…”

I grunt, bearing down once more with the contraction, and I can feel the resistance of the baby hitting the wall of my stretched leggings. When the push was over I cried out “Go! Do it now!” and you scrambled at the waistband of my clothing and rolled the elasticated fabric down my damp thighs.

“Do you want me to take them completely off?” You asked but I could barely think, the next wave was already here and all I could do was push.

I wanted to widen my knees, to open up my burning hips to make the required space for the baby to pass through, but the tight fabric of the leggings pulled around my knees was preventing any further movement. I whimpered in my struggle; I needed to open my body wider and push but I simply couldn’t. In my desperation I went from my hands down to my elbows, my forehead touching the floor, my backside raised to the sky and I pushed with everything I had. I needed to get the head out and I had to get it out now.

“Easy babe,” you said softly, and I could feel your hand over the baby’s emerging head. “Take it steady, it’s crowning. Try and pant if you can, let it come on its own.”

“Hooohooo- oh fuck- I need to get it out…. Can’t hold off- oh I need to push!” I screamed.

Before you could tell me otherwise my body jerked as the head popped out and I groaned at the relief. Lifting my head slightly I bring a trembling hand down my body and between my thighs to feel - your hands were there too, cupping the newly born head of our child. You moved, letting me feel - the ears the nose, the hair - our baby. Your fingers then gently stroked the back of my hand, no words were said as our hands entwined, squeezing each other. The love, encouragement and support all conveyed within that squeeze.

We were suddenly startled by a gentle knocking on the window booth.

“Hey mister, can I have an ice cream please?” The excited voice of a child said from outside the truck.

With the delirium and exhaustion of childbirth I couldn’t help but laugh. You heard my hitched breathing, worried I was crying, and asked “Babe, what is it? Are you okay?”

My laughs got a bit more distinguished as I raised back up onto my hands and twisted to look at you. “This is one hell of a birth story…” I giggled.

“Ha. Maybe this one will take over the family business.” You joke, relieved to see me smiling during this eventful and inconvenient birth. “Sorry kid, no ice cream today.” You shouted through the walls of the truck.

“Oooo- hoooo- babe… mnggghhhh… it’s coming….” I shift and grunt, bracing both hands on the floor and surrendering to the contraction once more. “Fuck… why didn’t we take my leggings off!?”

“Keep going babe, the shoulders are coming. You can do it. Yes!… one shoulder…”

“Grrrrhhhhhhhh!!!!” I groaned loud and long, pushing through the excruciating stretch of the shoulders.

“…two shoulders… and again push honey push!!!!”

“Mnnnghhhh- catch it!!!” I screamed, and a second later the baby fell into your waiting hands and instantly cried.

Tears sprang from my eyes at the sound and I immediately twisted my body and legs around so you could hand me the babe.

“It’s a girl.” You said proudly, putting the slippery newborn against my chest.

“Hi baby… hi.” I cooed, lifting my thin t-shirt and placing her against my chest. “You were in a hurry weren’t you.”

Poor little bird-folk who has a condition that makes their eggs grow unusually large. It means they almost always get egg bound and spend days laying a clutch when all their friends do it in an afternoon. It doesn't help that they're small and slight with narrow hips that strain against every huge egg.

As they get closer to laying their stomach swells up immensely, looking ridiculous on their small frame. Everyone else they know gets a regular, manageable bump in the weeks before they lay. Usually only restricting their movements in the last few days. But their stomach is huge and obvious and horribly sore for weeks. They spend almost a month too heavy to fly and by the last week they can barely walk. You would think that going through this every year would mean they're used to it, but every time they are caught off guard by how heavy and sore and uncomfortable their giant eggs make them. Their fragile pelvis wasn't made to carry so much weight. Their skin stretches so far that they start to lose feathers on their belly and red, angry stretch marks are visible on the exposed skin. It's miserable but they know the worst is still yet to come.

Their body is designed to lay quickly. Half a day of laboring, an hour of pushing and you've got a clutch. But with their eggs three or four times bigger than they should be that timeline is simply impossible. They dread those first contractions. Once they start they are trapped in a horrible storm as their body shoves the first egg down brutally hard and fast. The pressure in their hips increases ten fold. They squawk and cry, paralyzed by the intensity and trying desperately to find a position that will ease some of the pressure.

It's not long before the tip of the first egg begins to press down through their cloaca. This is when the real trouble starts. They are gripped with the urge to push. The first push begins to stretch their hole, the heavy egg bulging out the skin between their legs, the very tip visible just inside. But there is not enough space. Two, maybe three pushes should be enough for a regular egg. But their egg is so, so big. It gets stuck almost immediately. A few desperate pushes might bring it down just a bit more, enough than the stretch of their cloaca really starts to sting. But then it lodges itself and won't budge no matter how much they push.

No matter how many times they're forced to do this they are always gripped with horrible panic when they realize the egg won't move. The pain of contractions, the spasming of their stretched hole, the mind numbing pressure, all make it impossible to think. They'll thrash and scream, crying that it's stuck! It's stuck! Oh god please, it won't come! By now they know to have a healer on hand. But during their first lay they cried alone for hours, sure they were going to die.

There isn't actually much the healer can do. The bird-folk must now go through a horrible process of slow stretching. The healer takes some oil and rubs it around the rim of their hole, gently stretching the already taught skin, trying to work them open. They moan as their tortured hole is stretched. The burn is constant and terrible and they feel like they could rip open at any second. The healer stretches them and then they are forced to stand on shaking legs and hobble back and forth, bowlegged around their crowning egg. They shift their hips as best they can, trying to work the egg down. They are still beset by contractions and every few the urge to push becomes too great and they have to squat down and push. On every fourth or fifth push the egg will inch out the slightest bit more.

The progress is glacial and agonizing. They are trapped in a desperate cycle. Once they collapse from exhaustion the healer applies more oil, wedging their finger in alongside the egg and making them stretch. Then after a fruitless push or two they are dragged back to their feet. They rock and sway and squat intermittently, pushing and crying, until their legs give out once again and they slump to the ground in an exhausted heap. Then the healer approaches with more oil.

This goes on for hour after miserable hour. Slowly the egg crowns out of their tortured cloaca. The liberal application of oil and constant stretching protects them from tearing but the burn is indescribable. They are stretched so tight around something much bigger than it should be. At a certain point they go numb, their nerves unable to keep up with the stretch.

It's usually at that point that they break down completely, going limp and weeping, saying the egg will never come out, just leave them, they're too tired to push anymore. Every time they're sure this is it, it's over. They just want the pressure and the pain to end but their will is completely broken. The healer lets them cry and writhe through several contractions then hauls them up on their hands and knees, forces some water down their throat, and tells them to get pushing. It's hard but they've done it every year and this won't be the year they die on the healer's watch. Still crying and hiccuping miserably they bear down and push again.

By the next day they are usually close to the widest part of the egg. The end is in sight but still so far away. The cycles of oil, stretching, and pushing have gotten shorter and shorter. They are no longer able to stand, the egg forcing their legs too wide. It looks obscene sticking out of their hole, taking up the entire space between their legs. They alternate between squatting and rocking back and forth on their hands and knees. By now they are in a kind of trance-like state. Their world shrunk down to just the giant egg holding them brutally open. They emit a constant quiet lowing, their broken voice peaking in distress with every push.

Finally after one push they feel it, on instinct they know that one more push will get them past the widest point. They suck in a breath and push with every desperate ounce of strength left in their exhausted body. The egg moves. The pressure gives. In an almost orgasmic gush the egg bursts through and slides out of their spasming hole. They slump to the ground and sob in relief.

They get maybe an hour of rest. Then the pains return and their body starts working the next giant egg down to their hole. They're stretched now so this one will not take quite as long but they still have hours more of pushing ahead. And after that two more eggs lie in wait.

When all of the eggs are finally out they sleep for days, completely drained. The relief of finally being empty is always tainted by the knowledge that they will have to do it all again next year.

these baby's are growing really fast