Do It Again

The desperation when they're stuck at full crown and the head won't move. Crying and wailing and begging. Pushing uselessly even when they're not contracting. Desperate to escape the horrible burning stretch. It's right there, holding them brutally open. It's going to take a couple good strong pushes to come all the way out but their strength is already failing and they can't think through the mind numbing pressure and pain. So they writhe and scream, wasting energy they can't afford to lose.

There has been an outbreak of rapid pregnancy leading to unknown outcomes -- potentially dangerous! Please be aware!

Getting kinda big, I can’t keep my hands of my belly. What’s inside of it?

431.3 There’s an alien invasion and they capture some people w uteruses to impregnate them with their species. Problem is their species head is way larger than the human birth canal. Between that and the thick body with extra arms, all of the experiments have ended in long agonizing labors, and death so far. The aliens keep tweaking the genetics but so far to no avail. Your water just broke. Were they able to make the baby (or babies) small enough to fit after another long agonizing labor? Or are you just another casualty. Do you know about the fates of the others going into this? 

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Number 731 was ever so slightly smaller than her cell mate, 730 and slightly bigger than 732 next door. Mind you, she was fairly certain they each carried twins. Either that or they each carried one large baby. Their captors refused to give them any information of their condition. Either way they all knew they were pregnant.

When 730 went into labor, 731 was able to hear her agonizes screams for days. She counted the days.. one.. two.. three.. the screams got quieter and less frequent.. four.. five.. on the sixth day there was nothing. Her cell mate wasn’t coming back. Neither was the baby. (Babies? She didn’t know.)

Three more days pass, and during this time 731 paced her cell. She had a hand on her back, worrying about what was going to come of her. If 730 didn’t come back.. did any of the others? Had seven hundred and thirty people really come to the same fate? Was she next? A cramp in her abdomen seemed to confirm her question.

The cramps came and went, despite her pacing, or attempts to get comfortable, but she did not cry out. Not yet. She kept her mouth shut until it was time for lights out. In the night there was nothing to muffle her groans of pain. The guard on duty quickly called for the medical team to extract her.

She was carried to the hospital wing and strapped to a bed with her legs spread. Her arms tied down to her sides. The pain in her back amplified greatly. It’s like these beings didn’t realize that laying flat on your back narrows the birth canal.. before they picked her up, she’s dilated to maybe a 6, but since being strapped down her progress stalled. The contractions did less for her.

She groaned through out the night as the aliens constantly roughly checked her with their thick fingers.. by the morning she had barely hit 7cm. They gave her medicine to up the intensity of the contractions but still she stalled. She writhed in pain, now screaming loud enough to scare 732 all the way back at her cell. She tried to hold her stomach, or to move or anything but she could only lay there suffering. Screaming.

Still it was another day and a half before she felt the urge to push. She was exhausted, starving, and still barely able to move. She begged the doctors to let her get out of her bed, let her walk around, let her squat for god sakes!

She pushed the best she could for being laid out. It was hours before she finally felt the baby bulge behind her lips.

The aliens got excited, perhaps 731 is going to be the one?? They watched eatery as the bulge pushed forward creating a sliver, and groaned when the baby slipped backward. A few of them even seemed to place bets, most of them betting against 731 though. It’s the safest bet.

She pushed, she strained, and she screamed. Her face turned red with bursted blood vessels. The baby barely made the sliver stay open. 731 had never felt so full in her life. Never felt so ready to split apart at the seems. Each push began to get weaker, her screams had long since faded. The baby stopped kicking it’s appendages.

The aliens took notes, and scribbled away. It’s the farthest anybody had gotten their baby yet, but the baby had yet to even come to a full crown by the time the monitors confirmed the truth, after 5 days of labor, 731 was just another statistic.

Screams from down the hall perked the aliens attention though.. maybe 732 would have a better chance?

the stage right before crowning is the hottest part of birth to me- the head resting heavily in the birth canal, just beginning to spread the birther's entrance, stretching them inside like they've never been stretched before. and the shoulders are entering the cervix, so they're basically stretched all the way up into their womb......

I feel like I’m already 10 cm dilated….

Imagine if you had a rare condition that when you're knocked up you can still be impregnated with more. It's not everytime but still often enough that you find yourself knocked up with triplets less than a few weeks in. You get to a point that when a load of cum is pumped into your over burdened womb you feel your midsection surge and shift as you expand with another life. Your hips and bust instinctively growing with each one to keep up. You'll find yourself trying to bred at any given moment watching your belly taking over your body. A slow constant growth that you couldn't stop if you wanted to. Too large to stop yourself from being taken advantage of as your knocked up again and again. You have no idea how many babies there are, all you know is it won't ever stop now. Your tummy already looking midterm only a month in begins getting warmer, you watch as it gets hotter and hotter and suddenly your first growth spurt takes over. Every part of your body swelling and growing making you more feminine and curvy. Your tummy jumping a few months of growth in one moment as you feel the first kick. And then kicks. It becomes a daunting feeling realizing all that you'll have to birth as you go through more and more growth spurts and the kicks grow in frequency. And all the while your man is just about to fuck you again.

Oh. My. God.

This is literally sososososo fucking hot I am so goddamn wet from reading that. How I wish that was real.

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.

What a fucking diety.

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Car birth