I have some of this guy's stories, and they're awesome.
Only problem is: I can't seem to find any of his other work.

No site, no deviantart, no nothing.

Anyone can give me some help with this?


Also, any good sites with good stories? I can't seem to find anything good these days.

Which of Dropster's stories do you have? I think I've got all of them.

For other good up and coming authors I frequent Deviant Art. There are some budding writers there. There is also (or was) a good amount of material via Amazon's Kindle in it's Erotica section. Fiona Thompson wrote some good stuff and Artemis Damodred wrote about five birth erotica short stories.

Does anyone have Birth Karma? I am also looking for My Aunt's First Birth which I don't know if he wrote or if it was written by another author.

Birth Karma
by Dropster

Under the bright lights of the studio the group were moving into their
routine. Because this was being filmed for general release the women
were all attractive, vivacious and young. Their silky leotards clung
revealingly to well toned bodies. The most striking feature of the scene,
however, was that each of the photogenic participants was noticeably
pregnant. Their tight costumes stretched over, or in some cases even left
bare, beautifully rounded bellies, from the elegant out-swell of the second
trimester to the full out-thrust later-term globe, and the low cut tops
showcased the plumply bulging breasts of expectant motherhood.
Faced with this stage full of lovely fertile womanhood, Curt had
eyes only for one. She stood at the front of the group, as she was the
instructor of this series. In her late twenties, of medium height, she had a
long, full lipped face, lush with the hormones of pregnancy and a cute pageboy
bob. Her legs were the lean muscular limbs of a dancer, but her
abdomen was palpably the most taut and full on the stage. At every moment
that his eyes fell on her Curt felt his heart pump and his restless manhood
surge uncomfortably. His dreams dwelt on her heavily fertile body. He was a
strong believer in not mixing business with pleasure, but this was the last
shoot and he intended losing no time in becoming a lot closer to the alluring
Madeleine.
This contract was a life saver for Madeleine. She had always
enjoyed her work as a dancer, earning enough to live comfortably, but
somehow never able to save. Then disaster struck. The surge of lust she
always felt after a vigorous performance propelled her into the arms of a
predatory male she met at the after-party. He took her home and fucked her
mercilessly until dawn, then pushed her firmly out the door. She never saw
him again but, after months had passed, her tummy began to push out
against her skimpy dancing costumes and she was politely and
sympathetically told that there was no demand for pregnant dancers.
As her uterus swelled ever more embarrassingly beneath her clothes
and her once lithe, small-breasted body became full and plump, her last
reserves of cash dwindled. Then she answered an casting advertisement for
“Pregnant Yoga Workout”. The interview went exceptionally well; the series
director seemed to respond positively to her from the first, and she was even
able to negotiate a small retainer to keep herself available until shooting was
due to start. She left feeling buoyed and excited for the first time in months
and hastened off to learn something about yoga.
“And … Action!” Cut’s voice cut through her reverie. The rolling
cameras hummed quietly.
“Today we are going to practice some more advanced squats …”
she began, smiling brightly into the principal camera. “Place your palms
together like this and…”
The women began to bend and stretch, exposing deep cleavage
between their full breasts, blue-veined with the enhanced blood flow to their
burgeoning mammary glands.
Madeleine considered herself fortunate to have carried small
throughout her pregnancy, but the endless delays in getting the series under
way meant that she was far further gone than she would have liked as the
series started and, as they rehearsed and then filmed, she had to call on all
her dancer’s fitness to disguise the increasing awkwardness and discomfort
of carrying a by now almost full term child in her swollen tummy, as she led
the group in their routines.
Curt shifted surreptitiously in his seat to make more room in his
jeans for his long stiff penis. His eyes were fixed on his instructor’s
beautiful face. She was smiling smoothly for the camera, but he could see
the effort of concentration in her eyes, and of late a rosy flush of exertion
had risen ever more readily from her softly heaving breasts to her face as the
filming proceeded. He understood that she was reaching the stage of late
pregnancy when such effort was becoming harder but fortunately the end of
their filming was now at hand and he felt exhilarated that this series would
uniquely showcase the capabilities of a woman deep in her final trimester.
The episode was reaching its climax.
“This last position is known in many cultures as the birthing
position ...” Madeleine began, trying not to allow her soft puffing to be
picked up by the microphone. “… Let’s begin by placing your hands
together and your forearms to your thighs ...”
She took a deep breath and bent forward, her muscular legs spread
apart and bent at the knees, her great belly dropping down, low and round,
between her thighs.
“Slowly lower your hips down towards your heels ...”
The girls, palms together and fingers pointed skywards, sank as one
into a deep squat, thighs wide apart, pelvic floors stretched open. Madeleine
felt a disconcertingly sudden pressure between her gaping thighs and
suppressed a grimace.
“… Press your elbows to your knees and keep your palms pressed
together …” she gasped out. All at once that pressure was changing into
something else and more frightening. All across the unsupported lower
curve of her straining belly was an intense cramping pain.
“… This is also a great place to Kegel because your pelvic floor is
open and relaxed …” she forced out, her brave smile remaining fixed for the
camera but her eyes opening wide in shock. She was wracked with pain but,
most desperately, she couldn’t move, couldn’t risk trying to push herself out
of this vulnerable position for fear of what any working of her muscles
might do to her clenching uterus: she might break her waters all over the
stage before the watching cameras!
There was a pause. “You can also Kegel here …” she improvised,
“… and even better, no one can see you are doing it!” she babbled on, tears
of pain and humiliation stinging her eyes. A titter came from the girls behind
her, uncertain of what was going on.
She concentrated hard on her tight, aching belly, willing it to relax,
willing the hard cramp to dissipate. She was dimly aware of a stirring
beyond the camera. Curt, to whom she owed all this, who had been so
supportive of her, was becoming alarmed; she was going to ruin the finale of
his series. She blinked away tears, and then realised that a miracle was
happening. Her cramping abdomen was easing, her crisis was ebbing. She
sucked air gratefully.
“Take one more breath …” she panted. “To come out of this one
let’s place the hands forward … rocking your thighs back, sit on your
heels.”
She had made it! Her legs now jackknifed either side of her hugely
gravid tummy, the pressure still there but controllable.
“… Take a couple of breaths here …” her boobs pushed fiercely
against her supporting bra as she filled her lungs.
“And up!” she almost groaned as she called on all the strength in
her dancer’s legs to thrust her trembling body upright.
“There! That wasn’t too hard was it?” she panted to the camera.
“And the good thing is, it gets easier the more you practice!”
Only it doesn’t, she said to herself as the episode moved to wrap-up.
It just gets harder until, one day, the baby comes forcing itself down that
open canal. She knew that she was getting closer to that day. A lot closer.
As the swollen-bodied beauties made their way to the changing rooms
and showers, Curt quickly stepped forward to where Madeleine was
standing, running her hands over her heavily gravid belly.
“Ok for tonight?” he asked anxiously. He noticed how drained she
looked from the shoot. He supposed that her advanced condition meant that
she was reaching the point where she needed to be careful over such
exercise. Fortunately they were now finished so she could relax in the time
remaining before the birth.
Madeleine felt a thrill of excitement through her hormone-charged
body, both at the closeness of his strong masculine form and at the word
tonight. They had arranged only to get together for a drink after the shoot,
but Curt’s words seemed to promise something more substantial and more
intimate.
“Sure,” she breathed, smiling brightly at him, trying not to let him
see how weakened she was by the cramping she had just experienced.
“Great. I need to finish of a couple of things here. Why don’t you
come and find me when you’ve changed,” he said.
She waddled carefully to the showers and struggled awkwardly to
divest herself of her clinging leotard. Once under the soothing waters,
Madeleine ran her soapy hands over and over the full curves of her massive
belly. She was now so far gone in her pregnancy that she was no longer
feeling the round firmness of her muscular sheets and her water bag but,
beneath the tight, thinly-stretched wall of her straining uterus, the hard bony
limbs of her fully grown fetus; here, the feet braced against her rib-cage,
there a hard little bottom. Hopefully that curve was a backbone, presented
forward to make it easier to push her baby’s head through the narrow gap in
her pelvis and down her stretching vagina. Below here there should be a
head, but … no, as she pressed her hands into the under-curve of her
abdomen she could not find the bump of her baby’s head. It was clearly now
buried too far down into her lower pelvis.
Madeleine leaned back and allowed the myriad water jets of the
shower to cascade onto her aching body. She had always been smallbreasted,
but now she had boobs, round and swollen with the masses of
glandular tissue which had developed within them, too much for her once
pert titties to readily contain so that thin red streaks had appeared around the
nipples showing the damage being done to the delicate skin of her breasts.
Even worse in Madeleine’s eye’s, however, were the thickened, rubbery
nipples, now a chocolaty brown colour, which had grown at the ends of her
breasts. She couldn’t imagine that any man could find the meaty
protuberances attractive. “I look like a mother of six!” she thought
mournfully, looking down at her disgusting baby pacifiers.
The shower jets were not having their usual soothing effect.
Madeleine still felt uncomfortable pressure in her lower abdomen and the
water stimulating her sensitive nipples seemed only to be tightening her
belly muscles around the body of her child. She sighed and stepped from the
shower.
The other women were almost finished dressing, full breasts cupped
into supporting brassieres and casual maternity tops tugged over ripening
bellies. As she toweled off, gently patting dry her tender breasts and softly
rubbing her tautly swollen tummy, the others said their final tearful
goodbyes and then they came down to give her a hug, naked as she was,
pressing their high, growing bellies against her huge, low-hanging uterus.
She could see in their eyes that they all knew she would be the first of them
to be rushed to the hospital with her baby’s head beginning to push through
her cervix.
Once they had gone, she opened the bag she had brought with her
with clothes for the promised date. It had been hard to work out what to
wear. Curt was sure to patronize somewhere reasonably fashionable, but it
wasn’t easy to look smart at her advanced stage of pregnancy, quite apart
from the small matter of what she had that would still actually fit her. In the
end she had chosen a black, high-waisted maternity dress in a simple but
clinging fabric, with a wrap around bodice which nevertheless plunged low
at the front to make the most of her swollen cleavage, and which stretched
down to just above her knees. It left nothing to the imagination regarding
the enormous size of her belly, but she figured it was probably time to come
clean, as it were, about just how far her pregnancy had run.
Hanging her dress on the nearby hook, she drew from her bag the
expensive lacy underwear she had brought. She had always been
accustomed to snapping her bras quickly over her small high breasts, but
now she had to fasten the back strap at the top of her tummy, tug the
garment around and then up under the drooping underside of her heavy
breasts and then finally lift the supporting shoulder straps up her arms,
flipping the soft cups of the bra up over the tender tips of her breasts. That
done she squirmed and pushed at her boobs to settle them comfortably in
their nests. Despite having upped her bra to a C-cup, it could scarcely
contain the swollen monsters and lush, blue-veined flesh welled up above
the down-straining cups. Bending over, she next thrust one awkward foot
after the other through the leg holes of her panties and, with a huff of effort,
stood upright once again, hauling the flimsy stretch fabric up her full thighs
until it snuggled against the hairy mount she could no longer see beneath
her outstretched belly. She had not chosen maternity panties for tonight and
so her flimsy garment had to sit precariously on what remained of once
well-defined hips. She looked despairingly at her swollen, ungainly body in
the mirror for a moment and then reached for the dress.
After several minutes of fighting with the clinging, slightly stretchy
fabric of the dress, she at last stood, puffing a little and red faced with effort,
her breasts pushing the bodice of the dress open to display deep milky
cleavage and every curve and plane of her enormous belly pressed tautly to
the straining weave at her midriff.
“Hhoo,” she sighed, gathering her breath. Then “HHhhoooo!! …” in
surprise, one hand moving swiftly to the lower curve of her uterus where
she felt a sudden stitch.
“OOOHHhhhooooo! ... OOOHHhhhooooo! …” she said to the
mirror, her eyes going wide in alarm as she bent forward, both hands
grasping for the fetus within her womb which was suddenly hard and
cramped across the whole broad width of her abdomen.
“OHH NO! …” she gasped in shock. It was happening again, The
same urgent discomfort she had experienced during the shooting. Her body
began to tremble and weaken. She had to put one hand out to steady herself
on the counter below the mirror, the other clutched and rubbed and
massaged and soothed the stinging, burning wall of her uterus, which felt
suddenly hard as a board beneath her anxious fingers.
She lowered her head and moaned, alone in the changing room, as
she had not been able to do in the eyes of the crew and cameras.
Tears of pain sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away fiercely.
“HHHhhhooooo! ... HHHhhhooooo! ... HHHhhhooooo! …” she
puffed rhythmically which she had read could ease the stress on a mother’s
tightening belly. At least the pain wasn’t getting any worse. She could cope
with it. Wait it out. And so eventually she was able to soften her breathing.
“Haaaaaahhh ... Haaaaaahhh …” Gingerly she straightened her bent
torso, once more took the weight of her heavily packed uterus fully on her
pelvic ring. Her face in the mirror was deeply flushed and damp with a
sheen of sweat. A little shakily after her renewed ordeal she washed her face
in cooling water and combed her hair. For a moment she stood before the
mirror, both hands gently caressing her out-thrust belly, soothing the still hot
and tense muscles holding her babe. She said a little prayer. Nothing should
be allowed to get in the way of this date with the man of her dreams.
Curt had begun to worry as the time went on: the other girls had emerged
and gone their way. He finished the remaining instructions for his crew
and then gasped as he turned and there she was, coming through the door,
moving gracefully despite the swollen bulk of her belly. Her dress was
simple and formal, but appeared almost painted on, so tightly did it cling to
every full curve of her gravid body. Her face was slightly flushed above the
pale, translucent flesh of her bosom, flesh within which a thick web of
purple nurturing veins showed plainly, running down into the plump breasts
which strained against bra and bodice and seemed almost to be bursting out
of the low-cut neckline. But arousing as that sight was, it was impossible for
the eye not to be drawn to Madeleine’s belly, so huge and ripe and lowhanging,
like a massive fruit about to fall to ground.
His prick stiffened painfully in his pants as Curt moved close to the
gravid beauty. Her strong boned face tilted up to his and he barely
controlled himself from clutching her to him and thrusting his tongue deep
between those lush lips. Instead he leant over and planted a conventional
kiss on her cheek. “You look ravishing,” he murmured huskily in her ear.
Her belly had pressed against him and she giggled awkwardly,
flushing a fetching crimson. “Can I feel it?” he breathed. She nodded and he
placed a palm reverently on the great boulder, stroking it softly and
marveling at how solid and alive it felt, her stretched muscles tight and hard
and the bony form of the fetus within clearly discernible beneath the
surface. His blood was pumping in his ears and in his rigid prick. He berated
himself for not making a move on the luscious mother-to-be earlier. He
couldn’t allow himself to imagine that she would welcome his urgent
manhood into her birth canal at such an advanced stage in her child’s
development. He would have to resign himself to an evening of frustrated
look and touch.
They went to a fashionable bar where Curt was able to treat himself
to an arm round that glorious belly as he helped her manouever herself onto
a narrow bar stool. As she sipped her non-alcoholic drink she twice excused
herself with a muttered comment about the capacity of the pregnant bladder.
He realised that the effort of walking from the bar to the ladies rest room
must be more demanding than she pretended as she always returned flushed
and breathing heavily. Little did he imagine how, once the rest room door
closed behind her, Madeleine gasped and clutched a hand to her belly,
staggering the last few steps into a stall puffing with effort, her body bent
over her hardened uterus. Nor how she then sat, the tight black dress tugged
up to her waist, her muscular legs splayed wide to in an effort to relieve the
growing pressure and panted through the duration of the pain. After each
bout subsided she got wearily to her feet, smoothed her dress down once
more, splashed cooling water on her face and returned to the bar. She was
timing her pains at nearly 30 minutes apart. If she contacted her obstetrician
he would not want her to go to the clinic until her labour was much further
advanced. She had time to continue to enjoy his company, and the bloodheating
intensity of his gaze.

“What are you doing for dinner, honey, I mean … are you … do you
need to get back to anyone … ?”
“Nope, I’m all on my own at home … well, not for long,” she
giggled awkwardly, stroking her belly, “So … “
Curt couldn’t believe how anyone could knock up this gorgeous
creature and then disappear, but he wasn’t about to question his luck. And so
they went to dinner.
The restaurant was softly lit at their intimate table for two. She leant
forward as they murmured idle nothings to each other with surprising
intensity. Above the table her bulging breasts hung low and open to his avid
gaze while beneath she had surreptitiously tugged up her confining skirt to
enable her legs to splay wide apart, the better to accommodate the swollen
boulder of her uterus pressing down between her thighs.
As they talked, Curt’s eyes were transfixed by the tracks of the thick
purple vessels in Madeleine’s lushly ripened melons. As she leaned towards
him, the weight of her growing nursery pushed open her bodice and he
could even see how the hem of her lacy bra bit into the soft flesh as it fought
to support her globes. Her breathing was full and passionate, quietly lifting
and squeezing her swollen bosom and when, as often, she worked a
soothing hand over the upper slope of her great, outstretched belly, the
material of her bodice was pulled tight across her boobs so that the outline
of twin thickly erect nipple stalks poked up beneath the fabric.
Madeleine’s parted lips, heaving bosom, deepening flush and
glazing eyes at this time were not solely the result of her rising sexual
arousal. Fortunately, in the dim light, Curt could not discern the tension in
her face nor see, beneath the table, the urgency with which her thighs
strained further apart and an anxious hand gripped and kneaded her harshly
cramping belly. After her several painful attacks, Madeleine was at last
gaining greater control of the fierce contractions which gripped her strong,
muscular abdomen and uterus. Through soft panting, a widening of the gap
between her legs to relieve the intensifying pressure and a withdrawing
within herself to endure the burning pain which spread across the great
circumference of her tightening tummy she could survive, murmuring to
herself like a mantra: “It will pass soon … It will pass soon …” and then,
ominously, “Only twenty minutes this time …”.
Although she knew the time was approaching that she must make
plans to travel to the birthing facility to be aided in the pushing out of her
babe, Madeleine’s throbbing vulva would not let her decline Curt’s
invitation to return to his house for a nightcap and so they left, Madeleine,
despite her best efforts, waddling awkwardly from the heavy weight of her
child who felt now to be jammed impossibly low down between her hips.
As Curt struggled with the key to the door, Madeleine leant desperately
back against the wall in the shadows, mouth open and breathing
deeply, her hands locked around her huge, low-hanging uterus, drawn hard
with the harsh contraction which had taken her in its grip as they came up
the stairs. Oh Lord, this was a bad one! Her face was going red with effort, a
sheen of sweat standing out on her brow. Fortunately Curt was fumbling
somewhat with the key and giving her this respite to manage and ride
through the fiery band of pain which seared across her tightly clenched
womb.
Her pains were coming inexorably swifter now and lasting longer.
She no longer dared look to her watch to see how long since she had been
taken with the last one. She kept repeating to herself that labour with a first
baby takes an age to progress. There must still be time to enjoy this evening
that she never wanted to end. She would have the nightcap and then call for
a taxi. Perhaps she would have the taxi take her straight to the birthing
facility.
No sooner were they in the door than Curt took her in his arms,
crushing her to him without regard to the hugeness of the uterus compressed
between them. Heat radiated up off Madeleine’s lovely, damply-flushed
face. He kissed her deeply, squirming against her so that his achingly hard
dick rubbed against the solid bulk of her tummy.
She panted, wide-eyed as the clinch was broken. He steered her
through the nearest door into the kitchen. His hands took hold of her low,
taut belly, soothing and thrilling her aching muscles with his firm, masculine
caress.
“You are a fertile goddess, my love,” he murmured huskily in her
ear. Madeleine felt her vulva swell and her clitoris stiffen within her panties.
Could it be that he wished to take pleasure with her even swollen and
awkward as she was?
His hands stroked upwards over the full curve of her fertile tummy,
up to where her plump breasts strained heavily within her lacy bra. Then, as
he kissed her longingly and tenderly he reached down to the hem of her
dress. His hands came up the satin skin of her thighs, feather light on her
lush flesh, over the strong, protruding globes of her muscular dancer’s
bottom, then around under the shelf of her downward pressing tummy to
finger the hot, damp wisp of fabric between her legs.
She moaned wantonly and rubbed her burning clit on the inquiring
finger. It was so long since she had been pleasured by a man (and no man
had ever pleasured her quite like this!) that she felt her body already
climbing the hill towards climax. He swiftly knelt and dragged her panties
down her quivering thighs. The musk rose pungently from her now exposed
wet, hairy, greedy mouth. Rising he took hold of the clingy dress, standing
and lifting, peeling the fabric over the bare mounts of her bottom, over the
huge, down-pointing belly standing now starkly out from her body in the
half light, over the full brassiere cups slumping slightly under the weight of
her fertile breasts but then drawn up high and round as she lifted her arms to
allow the dress to peel over her head and be discarded in a heap on the floor.
She stood before him now clad only in her well-stretched, black
lacy bra. He walked around her drinking in her swollen, gravid beauty. At
the back he pulled fiercely on the straining bra straps to free the hooks
supporting her fattened baby feeders. She felt the tension release and her
heavy mammaries roll free, beginning the downward sag which would be
finally caught by her inadequate supporting ligaments. However his hands
followed the fluttering away of her delicate lingerie, hefting her dense
glandular flesh and fingering lovingly the dark, fat and very stiff nipples as
they popped out.
Quickly, violently, he tugged off his own clothes. He was conscious
that he had not asked permission to fuck her gloriously swollen body, but
her softly panting silence, the hot, intense gaze with which she perused his
lean, fit torso and long stiff dick as they emerged from his clothes led him to
feel that she was prepared for him to continue.
He lifted her up onto the benchtop, her back angled to the wall, her
bottom he pulled forward until it was almost at the edge of the bench. Her
still athletic thighs parted either side of his body as he pushed forward,
running his curved penis up and down the gaping, steamy gash that opened
before him. Her huge, packed belly was tight and shiny as it rose high from
her hips and she realised that she looked as if she had assumed position to
birth her child; only it was taking something big into her channel she had in
mind for the moment rather than squeezing something even larger out.
Madeleine had long since lost the ability to trim more than the outer
edges of her bush, and her brown locks had grown thick and silky over the
now aroused and engorged lips of her soon to be maternal vulva. Her lips
were stiffened, pointing out and away, opening a broad canyon of wet, pink
folds topped by a well defined pencil of flesh that brought shudders to
Madeleine’s body every time Curt’s hard weapon bounced off its turgid
stalk.
Her body was faint with lust and she felt ready to achieve her
orgasm from this frotting of her lips and clit. She understood entirely why
Curt would not want to penetrate her vagina, so impossibly low and swollen
was her uterus. She giggled hysterically to herself that if he did he might
well meet a baby coming the other way!
Curt slid his prick more and more urgently in the gooey mucus
coating Madeleine’s pouting lips. The sharp, musky scent billowing up from
her gaping womanhood was taking away his senses, maddening him with
lust. Reaching down, he lodged his immensely swollen prick-head in the
round opening he knew was being readied for the passage of her child, but
feeling no complaint he pressed his luck, and his rigid organ inside.
She cried out with the intensity of her rapture that this wonderful
man was willing to enter her cave. Excitedly she flicked up her dancer’s
legs so that her ankles locked about his body and swooned at the size of the
ball of flesh distending her lips.
Curt was too far gone to last. Careful not to push too deeply towards
the taut mass of the belly springing up just above her widened slit, he jabbed
rapidly in and out several times and then erupted in a long pumping flood of
virile man-cream.
Immediately he was distraught at this violation of the precious
gravid goddess whose legs were wrapped around him. He leaned forward,
gasping at the strength of his orgasmic release rather than any weariness, he
felt he could fuck this woman all night. “I’m sorry,” he moaned, pressing his
head to the massive belly of the woman he had wronged. “It was just …” he
mumbled incoherently. “You’re just … I mean I couldn’t … you’re just too
damn beautiful!” he blurted out.
Madeleine was not quite sure if he was apologising for fucking her
without permission or for coming so quickly. Her mind was a hormonal fog,
her abdomen felt tight and bloated and tense and all she really wanted was
more stimulation of her achingly aroused pussy.
Curt stood straight and lifted Madeleine carefully off the benchtop.
Her back felt good for being straight again. Wordlessly he tenderly took her
hand and led her down the hall and into his bedroom. Madeleine waddled
with difficulty behind him, streams of his thick white jism flowing out of
her crowded vagina and down her thighs.
He had to help her sit on the bed. As she landed with a grunt he
noted how her legs, as well as bending at the knees, had to spread wide apart
to either side of her overripe belly. Her gorgeous, plump breasts slumped
downwards onto the slope of her mountain, her thick, tumescent nipples
waiting for a sucking babe.
He sat beside her on the bed. He reached for her dark teats and bent
his face to her lips. She kissed back urgently, gasping as he tugged on her
tense baby feeders. “Could we …?” he murmured. “… I mean would you …
again ...?”
“God yes … please” she moaned in response. “But it might not be
… I mean it’s hard to get …” she stroked her huge belly for emphasis.
“Hands and knees?” he suggested diffidently and immediately
flushed with embarrassment in case the suggestion would offend the
pregnant beauty. But she responded by beginning to clamber laboriously
onto the bed, puffing with the effort of manoeuvering her swollen, awkward
form.
As she crawled heavily onto the bed Madeleine was grateful to be
able to bury her face in the soft pillows. Already her belly was tightening
painfully once more. She sucked air as a fiery sheet of pain gripped her
child-swollen uterus and moaned with the agony and the relief of feeling her
throbbing, aching vulva receive the glorious knob of her lover’s pleasure
stick.
As he waded up the bed to position himself against her quivering
bottom, poking so vulnerably in the air, Curt thought that from that angle
she might not even be pregnant. While her firmly rounded bottom was
probably a little more seductively curved than normal, her upper thighs
bearing a layer of soft flesh over her well developed quadriceps, her back
was slim and long, flaring to delicate feminine shoulders. It was only when
he reached beneath her he could feel the enormous, low hanging abdomen,
tight and hard under his hands, strong ripples moving around the tense
muscular walls through which he could feel her child’s bony limbs. The feel
of her fertile completeness was stimulating him fiercely and he began to
thrust, carefully but energetically into her sodden tunnel. His hands strayed
further up, onto the plump dangling mounds of her swollen breasts, their
stiff, succulent nipples hanging directly down, poking into his palms.
Madeleine’s face, buried in the pillows, was contorted with effort,
sweat pouring off her heated flesh. Intense feelings were battering at her
consciousness: the pain of a terribly extended contraction, the pleasure of
the sweet stimulation of her demanding pussy. His strong, protective hands
on her clamping tummy were a benison that made her want to weep for joy,
the working of her fat nipples sent both a sudden intensifying of the
cramping pain in her uterus and a spasm of orgasmic excitement into her
vagina, causing it to busily milk at the thrusting rod within.
Slowly, with a myriad mini-climaxes, and riding all the while the
pains of a labouring woman, Madeleine reached for the complete orgasm
her overstimulated sex so urgently craved. Curt, driven wild by the sight,
sound and smell of his heaving, moaning mate was pistoning furiously into
her short hot cave, his balls contracting painfully as they prepared a second
flood of virile cream in a matter of minutes. Madeleine squirmed and thrust
lewdly with her hips and suddenly she was there, the terrible pain in her
clenching uterus fading away as she was overtaken by a crushing pleasure
washing over her organs of generation, the spasming of her abdominal
muscles at once concentrated in her convulsing vagina. As his love worked
herself on his pole and then exploded into uncontrolled thrashing and
crying, Curt’s heavy gonads fired again, sending copious, foamy waves of
hot jism spurting from her gaping canyon and surging down her thighs.
Madeleine collapsed, panting on her side. She was deeply drained
by the strength of her heavy contraction, and the intensity of the shuddering
climax which followed.
Curt ran a hand possessively over the opulent, sweaty curve of her
intoxicating figure. “My God!” he breathed. “You’re just so hot. It didn’t
hurt you did it? … I mean the … and all?”
“Uuhh huhh,” Madeleine managed weakly, shaking her head to
convey her meaning.
“We need a spa. Freshen up.” he said brightly. Rising, he padded out
of the room opening a door onto the balcony outside.
Madeleine groaned softly. Perhaps a spa really was what she needed
to find the energy to get her labouring body to the hospital. For she was very
aware that she must leave Curt soon for the lonely task ahead of her.

Having waddled precariously to the spa pool set in the decking outside
Curt’s bedroom, Madeleine sat gratefully in the refreshing waters. Her
hands stretched out along the rim of the pool on either side while the gently
caressing bubbles floated around her aching tummy and discretely covered
the dark, rubbery tips of her heavy, drooping breasts. Her legs relaxed and
drifted apart, allowing the insistent pressure in her pelvis to dissipate.
Exhausted by the painful tightening of her uterus and drained by the
shattering climaxes she had enjoyed on the end of Curt’s wonderful dick,
she drifted into a reverie where the continuation of her periodic cramps
seemed no more than mild discomfort against the general feeling of satiated
well-being pervading her body.
She was unaware of how her baby’s head, pressing firmly against
the enclosed rim of its mother’s pelvis, though which it must pass, slowly
compressed in diameter pushing ever further through her gap. Occasionally
the discomfort would lead her to draw her legs lazily up towards her
swollen abdomen and then back, quietly easing her baby’s head deeper
down and stretching her own ligaments, loosened by birthing hormones.
At length Curt rose up out of the pool and padded into the house to
arrange some drinks. This brought Madeleine’s foggy mind back into some
sort of focus. She was not sure how long she had been there, but it was
surely time for her to make her way to the birthing facility before her labour
reached its full intensity.
She waded across the tub like a great whale, immediately feeling a
renewed sense of urgency between her legs now that she was upright and
moving. She began to clamber her way up the steps out of the pool.
She had pulled the enormous bulk of her gravid belly clear of the
water and swung one leg awkwardly up and over the side of the pool when
she realised that she couldn’t take any weight on her legs. There seemed to
be a cannonball lodged painfully between her thighs, pushing them apart. As
she gasped sharply and tried to find a way to support herself, an agonising
pain ripped through her. It felt like her pelvis was being torn apart. “Curt!”
she screamed. “Oh God, Curt! … Help me … The baby!!”
Curt came racing back into the bedroom to see the lovely mother-tobe
crouched on the deck, just out of the pool, her eyes wide with shock,
crying and clutching at the glistening circumference of her belly.
“OOooohhh! … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo!” she sobbed,
“HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …”
Madeleine knew she shouldn’t be pushing this early in her labour;
knew she mustn’t push here in Curt’s home, but she just couldn’t help it.
Her entire pelvis and belly was a sheet of fire and all that life was about
right now was the primal need to shove that great bony boulder out from
where it was tearing her pelvis to shreds.
“HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she howled, her face going redder
and redder and her lips curling back from her teeth in a snarl of pain.
“OOooohhh! … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … Oooh Curt
I’m sorry! … HHHhhhooooo! … it’s not supposed to be like ...
HHHhhhooooo! … this!” she cried distractedly.
Curt swiftly went to her. “It’s OK honey,” he said, bending down to
grasp her arms where she reached up for him. It’s all going to be OK.”
Madeleine forced herself painfully upright into his arms. At once
she felt something move in her traumatised pelvis and suddenly the grinding
pain in her bones was gone to be replaced by a ferocious burning in her
tummy muscles and then fluid was gushing out of her plump, gaping pussy
lips, splashing down her thighs and all over her lover’s legs.
As Madeleine clung desperately to him, Curt had slipped a hand
under the lovely soft curve of her bottom and pulled her body against him.
With her glorious fertile uterus pressing hard into him he could feel the
rippling strain in her powerful belly muscles. She cried out and then warm
water was suddenly pouring down his legs. It took a moment for him to
realise what had happened, and then:
“Oh my God! My waters … I’ve broken my waters!!” she wailed,
gasping and squirming in his arms. He could feel the thick hot fingers of her
nipples pushing into him
“That’s not good, right?” he said. “That means things are starting to
happen. I’ll go and ring for an ambulance and we’ll have you to the hospital
in no time.”
“Don’t leave me!” she sobbed, piteously. “I need you … the pain, it
hurts so bad!” and clung to him the tighter.
“It’s OK babe, whatever you want, I’m here for you babe,” he
crooned soothingly.
“Oh Curt!” she moaned, gasping and hiccoughing. “I never wanted
it like this … here, all over your floor.”
“Um … Is there someone else who should be here … with you I
mean?” he asked, diffidently.
“Noooooo …” she said, sounding so lonely and forlorn that it
tugged at his heartstrings.
“Right. Good then. I’m glad I was with you then,” he said. “Now
like I said …”
“Oh God,” she moaned, “It’s coming again ...AAAaaaoooowwww!!
… OOhhh shit it HHuuuurts!! …”
She slumped in his arms and he lowered her carefully to the floor.
She sank into an impossibly wide-kneed squat, her sweet hairy mound
stretched taut between her thighs.
“HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! …” she panted fiercely,
fighting for air. “… Got to push, I’m sorry Curt, just got to puuuush! ...
HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she wailed.
Her arms were still reached up to him and she hauled down on
them, almost pulling him off balance. Between her thighs he could see her
pussy lips tugged apart, as if by an uncontrollable pressure within.
Her face had gone puce with effort. “… gnaaaaaaHHH!! …” she
exploded finally, “HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … Ohh God, it hurts
so bad! … HHhhhfffffff! …”
“What about the yoga, honey?” he offered, “Like this afternoon.”
“AAAaauuugggh!! …. you stupid bastard!,” she sobbed, “that was a
fucking movie … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … This is for real!
… This baby’s coming … NOW!! …”
“We need to get you an ambulance,” he said again.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she screamed. “THE FUCKING BABY”S
COMING NOW!! … HHhhuuuuhhhh ... HHhhuuuuhhhh … Got to get up
… OOooffffffff!” as he obediently pulled her upright.
She buried her head in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled
voice. “Ohh God, Curt, help meeee! I can’t take the pain ... HHHhhhooooo!
… HHHhhhooooo! … Too fucking much!”
“It’ll be OK, honey,” Curt found himself surprisingly calm, her need
for support overriding his own sense of panic. “The bed .. Let’s get you on
the bed.”
“Noooooo! The mess …” she moaned, tensing and pulling
downwards as he manouvered her awkwardly towards the bed. By the foot
of the bed she slumped down again.
“OOhh god yes!” she gasped. “Support for my back!”
Her belly was quite a bit smaller than it had been, he thought as he
looked down on her, and very low between her legs. Her short dark hair was
plastered to her head with sweat, her face streaked with sweat and tears. Her
naked body was flushed with effort, her plump breasts with their big
chocolate nipples swayed down to her labouring belly. He thought he had
never seen a woman look so lovely.
Her chest heaved as she sucked deep, panting breaths, her back
pressed against the foot of the bed. She looked up at him with wide,
imploring eyes. “Waiting for the next one ...” she murmured, fear and
determination in her voice. Her hands gripped and massaged the tight ball of
her belly. “Oh Curt ...” she moaned. “I think it’s starting … Oh Curt! …”
Her hands reached for her firm, muscular thighs. She took a strong
grip on their undersides and tugged each shapely leg up and out stretching
her lushly fleeced mons wide, causing the red, glistening lips to part into a
taut, tear-shaped opening.
She lowered her chin to her chest and her face went tight and dark
with concentration, her lips thin, her neck ropey with clenched tendons. He
realised that she was pushing.
“HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she groaned from somewhere
deep in her chest. “ HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooooo! …
HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …”Her belly visibly rippled from the mighty
pressure she was putting it under; her powerful dancer’s muscles straining to
their utmost capacity to drill her weighty fetus through the narrow gap it
must pass to be brought into the world. Her wonderful swollen tummy was
now hard as a drum, contracted to a small shiny ball standing painfully out
from her abdomen. And between those straining thighs her skin was bulging
out in a huge bowl, paper thin and bloodless at the edges, looking ready to
tear at any moment, and the tear shaped hole was gaping impossibly wide
and round, wider than it could ever have been stretched before and yet not
encompassing even the larger portion of the dark hairy head which was
thrusting against it.
“AAaaaeeeeeyyyiiiiiii!! …” she howled in anguish. “God, I can’t!
… It’s toooooo big!! … It hurts so bad!! …” With heavy, anguished pants
her eyes focussed on him again, imploring him for relief that he couldn’t
give.
“Maddy, you’re almost there!” he exhorted, “I can see the head! It’s
coming. You’re really doing this!”
“Oh God, Curt ...” she sobbed. “… It’s so sore! … I’m going to tear
my pussy ... It’s just too big!”
He knelt beside her and put his arms around her hot, quivering
body. “You’re stretching beautifully,” he reassured her. “Nothing’s going to
go wrong. I’m going to look after you. I love you!”
As she turned a tired smile on him, illuminated at once with raised
hope, he felt terrible about the false promises. But it’s true that I love her, he
told himself in surprise.
His words sank into her like a balm. “How could you ...” she gulped
through her desperate tears, turning her blotchy, sweat-streaked face up to
his, “… like this?” But what she saw in his strong brown eyes sent
endomorphins gushing through her tortured body. She was no longer alone!
She knew it was the hormones coursing through her that were making her so
desperate for male support. She was a woman at the most traumatic and
dependent moment of her life. But those words that she had never dared to
imagine hearing were giving her strength. Strength to endure this terrible
ordeal.
She gasped, harsh rasping breaths, because the cruel, uncontrollable
fisting of her abdomen was beginning again, and every time was now harder
and more agonising than the last.
He still had his arm around her as she squirmed, found purchase,
and hauled her thighs yet wider, wider even than the splits she had perfected
as a dancer. She realised that a wail of agony was ringing around the room,
and that it came from her, but the excruciating pain that was searing through
her pelvic floor left her unable to take in any other sensory perception.
She was proud of the strength of her fit, hard muscles, but her
regular exercises strengthening her body for dance had toughened the sheets
of muscle designed to keep things inside her pelvis and those sheets now
fought their ravishing and breach by the big bony head of her baby. In the
white hot fire of pain that burned in her brain she knew only that she must
drive this baby through her entrance at whatever damage to her torn body.
Her face went scarlet with the effort of her ferocious pushing; rivers of
sweat poured from her labouring body as she pushed herself beyond any
effort she had ever needed to endure as a dancer; her cries rang out again
and again. But now she knew she could not be stopped. Her lover’s arm
around her gave her the strength to endure.
She could feel her strong muscles stretching beyond any limit and
giving, fibre by painful fibre to the bulldozing boulder within her.
“My God, Maddy! Yes! …” Curt was bellowing. “Yes girl … Push!
… I can see it coming … You’re doing it!”

It was too big. She knew that now. Could feel it in every nerve
ending in her burning labia. Like a rubber band stretched to snapping point
by the impossibly big head crowing in her overstretched sex, there was no
further give. She almost welcomed the expected agony of a rip in her
delicate sex if it would allow this ordeal to end.
“What’s happening!! …” she shrieked. “Get it out of me … Ohhhh
please Curt, help me! … It’s stuck! … I can’t take it any more! … Make
something happen! … Ohh God! My pussy!! … AAAAaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiii!!!”
“It’s coming babe! I can see the head, it’s almost here! You’ve
almost done it!” he shouted.
Curt was beside himself with excitement. He had watched in awe as
Madeleine’s once petite vulva had stretched out and out and then out some
more, and all the time the rough matted head of her babe eased, a millimeter
at a time, further out of the iron tight ring of her vulva. He was sure that she
must rip open, his breath was coming painfully now with the tension, but he
could also see that she was so close, that the head was now almost at its
widest point in her gap.
Madeleine jerked and twisted, trying to ease the agony in her
distended pussy, and something did the trick. Suddenly the implacable mass
of her baby’s body was moving forward more quickly. The head seemed to
roll and a small, wrinkled face popped free of her hairy lips.
Madeleine gasped and moaned with relief as the intense pain eased
a little. “Ohh Curt,” she sobbed. “That was so hard!” And then she began to
realise. “Curt ... the baby. Curt, the baby’s still in me! Curt, what happens
now?”
“I don’t know, baby,” he answered honestly. “But whatever it is
we’ll soon find out. Just rest baby. You’ve done great. We’re almost there.”
“Madeleine got another needed dose of that glow when he said
‘we’. She sucked air greedily, then:
“Oh … Ooohh Curt! I think … OOhhhh My God it’s happening
again … Nooooo Curt don’t leave me! …”
“Got to catch the baby,” he explained as her positioned himself
between her widespread thighs.”
“Oh yeah! … I guess … HHhoooonnnnnnnggggg!! …
HHhhuuuuhhhh ... HHhhuuuuhhhh … It’s not moving! … What’s
happening? … Ooohhh ... HHhoooonnnnnnnggggg!! …”
Curt’s hands were hovering around the head protruding from
Madeleine’s bruised and swollen labia. He longed to give it a bit of a wiggle
or a yank to help his poor brave lover, he was sure he had heard of that
being done, but he didn’t dare. Pray God she would be able to do it on her
own. God, if you’re up there I promise to believe in you if you help
Madeleine now!
At that very moment, Madeleine, crying with effort, thrust with her
legs and back and surged up off the floor onto her haunches twisting and
stretching and the babe’s shoulders suddenly jerked clear of whatever was
holding them in and the slimy little form squirted inelegantly into Curt’s
fumbling hands.
“Oh god Maddy, you did it! He … umm … she’s here! Oh Maddy
you’re so wonderful, I love you!”
Madeleine’s eyes misted over at the sight of the funny purple form,
still attached to its ugly ropey cord which twisted out of her gaping vagina,
in Curt’s strong, protective hands. She reached out and felt her daughter’s
hot steamy body for the first time. Curt’s hands slid wordlessly around hers.
I’m going to love him, she thought. He gave me the strength to do
this. He was my birth karma and I’m not going to let him go!
And to Curt’s astonishment she burst into loud, noisy tears.

This is great, thank you so much!

(December 2, 2016, 4:52 pm)mvenatta Does anyone have Birth Karma? I am also looking for My Aunt's First Birth which I don't know if he wrote or if it was written by another author.

My Aunt's First Birth wasn't written by Dropster, but by another author known as pregnantlady. It took me a while but I finally located my copy of it.

There's this thread on pregchan.
hxxp://pregchan.com/c/res/2733.html