does anyone have the stories from the writer named starswhenyoushine/babiesbeingborn? particularly the stories about a pregnant spy?

I only managed to salvage one of them, here

https://docs.google.com/document/u/1/d/1...obilebasic

If anyone was able to save their stories please do share, they were a great writer.

Baby Hulk
By Starwheneyoushine

When Toni first got pregnant, Bruce freaked out. Not only was he afraid of being a bad father, he also worried that the serum would transfer to the baby, making their kid have to deal with having a hulk inside them.
Right now though, it was Toni who had to deal with it. She had been keeping busy in the workshop when suddenly something exploded. It was a small explosion, not even close enough to throw her off her feet, but she still got scared for her baby’s safety. She was only six months pregnant at the time.
As her heart rate went up, she felt a weird pressure in her belly. It quickly grew from alarming to downright painful, and she watched in horror as her skin stretched around her rapidly expanding belly. New stretchmarks popped up by the second as her child twisted and turned, kicking hard enough to bruise.
Seconds later, Bruce was rushing into the workshop, having been alerted by Jarvis. He stared in horror at her massive belly, now looking eight months pregnant, visibly shifting with frantic kicks. She was clutching her painfully stretched womb, trying to breath despite the abuse happening inside.
“I think the baby just hulked out”, she murmured. Bruce looked pretty close to hulking out himself.

***

The baby’s ability to hulk out caused the team to start tiptoeing around her. They were doing their best to keep her as calm and comfortable as possible. There’d been a few more episodes with the baby hulking out, but otherwise her pregnancy had been pretty easy. She’d been on bedrest since her seventh month, and now, at 35 weeks pregnant, her c-section was scheduled for next week. No one wanted to know what happened if the baby hulked out this far into her pregnancy – frankly they weren’t sure if her skin could stretch enough.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t counted on a magical kidnapping. Some alien called Amora had decided to magic the Avengers to a different planet. She then decided to keep Steve and Thor as her pets/lovers, leaving the rest of them in a cave turned prison cell. Loki, who had been somewhat redeemed, but still wasn’t on the best of terms with the team, was also kept in the cell.
Toni had somehow managed to keep calm enough during the kidnapping that her little green bean hadn’t hulked out. Everyone else tried to keep calm for her sake, but the tension in the cave was still tangible. Especially when Toni started feeling mild contractions.

***

She was pacing the cave. It was hard to keep calm when the pain in her womb made her want to kill someone. The contractions were brutal and she could feel the baby starting to move down through her body. A new pain rose within her, her womb shrinking with the force of it, pressing the baby downwards. She squatted down to relieve the pressure, letting out a loud moan. Bruce was rubbing her back softly, but it no longer helped with the pain.
Her moan turned into a choked off scream as the thing they’d all been worrying about finally happened. She could feel the baby’s head expanding in the bowl of her hips until it felt like her pelvis would shatter. Her belly ballooned outwards, making her look like she was overdue with twins or perhaps even triplets. The baby was kicking and wiggling hard enough that she felt dizzy with the pain of it. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out.

***

When she woke up Loki was leaning over her. Her belly and hips didn’t hurt as much, but she still looked just as enormous.
“I used my magic to make your body more… elastic, perhaps. I couldn’t stall the labor and I couldn’t force the child to shrink, but I managed to make sure that you will survive the birth without tearing or breaking any bones.”
She stared at him in horror. “But the baby is the size of a toddler! How am I supposed to be able to birth a toddler?”
“A lot easier now that it can’t shatter your pelvis on the way out.”
She had a small panic attack, made worse by another contraction.
“Shh”, Bruce murmured in her ear. “You’ll be fine. I’ll get you through this, I promise. Just try to breath.”
She somehow managed to catch her breath, fingernails making deep scratches in his forearms as she clung to him. As her cramping womb relaxed, she found her voice again.
“Help me up, I need to move. I need… Gravity. Gravity would be good.”
Bruce obediently helped her to her feet. She gritted her teeth as gravity indeed helped pull the baby downwards. The blunt curve of it’s skull scraped against her insides, forcing her pelvis to expand. Her knees started shaking.
“Easy”, Bruce murmured, keeping her upright. His physical strength always managed to surprise her. Even as a mild-mannered scientist, he did have a form of serum in his veins. He was a lot stronger than he looked.
Her belly squeezed down and her body promptly decided that she needed to squat. With Bruce the only thing keeping her upright, she spread her legs and bent her knees, trying to open up her hips for the enormous infant in her womb. Her throat was vibrating with the noises she was making. Distantly she observed that she sounded like a dying cow.
As the cramps relaxed the ache in her core remained. She felt like she had a bowling ball resting against the bottom of her womb, on the verge of entering her birth canal. The muscles in her hips and thighs started spasming so she reluctantly straightened up a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Toni?”
Natasha sounded scared. It immediately captured Toni’s attention, as Natasha usually hid her feelings well.
“Is there anything we can do to help?”
Toni shifted to look at her forgotten teammates. Both Natasha and Clint looked uncomfortable, bordering on terrified. She would be too, in their position. They were stuck in a tiny cave turned prison cell, with the hulk, barely keeping it together as his calmer alter ego, a god of mischief, and a woman in the process of giving birth to another hulk.
She could feel her womb spasming, rearing up for another contraction, but she willed it to wait, praying that it would give her a break.
“Is there… Do we have some water?” As she said it she realized how thirsty she was. She also realized that nothing would stop her body from contracting.
Her belly became rock hard, changing from the shape of a huge teardrop over her hips to a tight globe, shrinking and shifting downwards. She felt the head of her child stretching her insides as her fingers clawed at the flushed skin surrounding her womb. Once again, Bruce was the only thing stopping her from falling as she squatted and screamed, rocking her hips in an attempt to make more room.
Coming back to herself after the contraction was like slowly waking up, her surroundings trickling back into her consciousness as the pain slipped away. To her surprise, she found a buckled metal cup held out in front of her, a drop of water hitting her cracked lips. She drank greedily as Natasha slowly tipped the cup.
During the next few contractions she felt reality fade away into a haze of pain and pressure and helplessness. Her body and baby worked towards delivery, but her consciousness had nothing to do other than suffer. She wanted to just push already, help the baby along, but she knew it was too soon. She could only breathe and cry and exist in her cloud of pain and misery.
A slight popping sensation, followed by a trickle of water woke her from her dreamlike state. Suddenly she was acutely aware of the rough stone underneath her boots, the worried gazes of her teammates, the green swirling in Bruce’s eyes, the smell of sweat and fear and amniotic fluid. The contractions slowed down a bit, giving her actual breaks in between.
Something felt distinctly different. The baby’s head was lower. The untangible pressure between her hips transformed into the sharp sensation of a head stretching her cervix. Her body tensed down even without her permission. It was time to push.
She sank deeper into a squat, releasing a groan of effort as she pushed with her body. The head shifted in response, stretching her insides.
“Tony!” Bruce’s voice was loud in her ear, his arms steady as ever around her. “Tony, I want to check you before you push. I need to see if you’re ready.”
“I am”, she growled in response. “I know I’m ready. I NEED to push, it’s not a choice.”
“Okay, let’s get your pants off then. Natasha will help, okay?”
She felt hands on her sides, trying to ease her maternity jeans from her widened hips. It was slow going, and she pushed with a few more contractions before Natasha’s voice interrupted her.
“Toni, I can’t get your pants down when your legs are spread that wide. Can you straighten up for just a second?”
Toni growled in response. She knew, logically, that her clothes needed to come off, but there was a head resting against her nether lips and every instinct was screaming at her that she needed to spread her legs wider – not close them. On the next contraction she did just that – she sank deeper into her squat, groaning through another push.
“Just cut them off”, she whined when she could catch her breath again. An exasperated sigh was heard from the corner of the cell, followed by the sound of fingers snapping, and suddenly she found herself bare from the waist down.
“You’re welcome”, Loki muttered with an eyeroll.
Toni ignored him for the moment.
“Bruce, check me. Please tell me I’m close!”
“You’re already bulging a bit, I think you’ll be crowning soon.”
Clint made a weird noise, like he was about to be sick or something, but she ignored him as well. The next contraction was upon her.
She hunched around her belly, groaning gutturally as she pushed. The baby moved with her efforts, and she started feeling a burning sensation between her legs. She was shaking all over now. A second pair of arms joined Bruce’s in the effort of keeping her upright. Natasha.
“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ooow…” she whined as her muscles started relaxing, but the burning feeling remained. The sheer weight of the child kept it from moving back in between her pushes, gravity keeping it in place as her lips stretched into a teardrop shape.
“You’re okay, honey. You’re okay. You’re doing amazing”, Bruce murmured in her ear as his hands moved between her legs, supporting the stretched skin, despite knowing magic was keeping her from tearing. “Nat, can you hold her so I can see what I’m doing?”
Natasha’s arms grabbed her more firmly from behind, shifting her backwards and downwards into an even deeper squat. Bruce kneeled down in front of her, finally getting a clear view of what was happening between her legs.
“Oh fu… Baby’s definitely a hulk. Head is green. But Toni, I can see the head. You’re doing great!”
Toni’s response was to push again.
It felt like she pushed for hours, the baby barely moving each time she strained. She felt stretched to her limit, but she still hadn’t reached a full crown. Clint had taken Natasha’s place behind her, keeping her in a squatting position, while Natasha had brought her another cup of water and stayed next to her, holding her hand. Bruce stayed between her legs, carefully massaging her stretched vagina in an effort to ease the pain and help the baby out.
“I can’t,” she sobbed after her latest push. “I can’t, I can’t, it won’t fit.”
Clint looked to Loki, eyes begging. “Can you help her?”
Loki shook his head. “I already did everything I can.”
Clint turned back to Bruce who looked increasingly worried where he was crouched between Toni’s legs. Clint felt kind of relieved that her belly kept him from seeing the actual situation between her legs. Even Natasha looked vaguely nauseous, so he was pretty sure it wasn’t something he would handle seeing well. Toni tensed up in his arms, grunting with effort.
The baby was almost at a full crown, a green orb the size of a two-year-old’s head stuck in her vagina. Toni was quickly tiring and Bruce worried for both their safety. The expulsion fase of this birth had been incredibly slow-going. He had attended a few births during his time in India, but he had never seen a woman stretch this far without tearing. He had never seen a woman stretch this far, period. Without magical intervention, she would surely be bleeding to death right now.
“Bruce, I need to… Please.” Toni reached out for him, trying to communicate how badly she needed to change positions. She felt like the baby was stuck. Anything would be better than staying like she was now. She needed… She didn’t know what.
Bruce seemed to understand, though, ‘cause he helped her ease forward into his arms. This position left him completely unable to see what was happening down there, but it was not like he actually was able to do something. She curled forward, pressing her forehead against his shoulder and shifting her knees even further out, to accommodate her belly, where it was hanging heavily between them. Her hips were forced wider and gravity seemed to hit even harder. She pushed.
In the next break she reached down to feel the head splitting her open. It was much bigger than she expected and the sensation caused her to gag in horror. “Buce…”, she whined, fingers roaming over the foreign landscape between her legs.
“You’ll be okay. You’ve got this”, he kept repeating in her ear as she rocked in his arms, shaking with the strain of her pushes. Her only response was a sudden sharp yell, as the head finally moved passed the widest point, popping out in a rush of fluids.
“It’s like a soccer ball”, Clint murmured, sounding faint.
“Check for the cord!” Bruce ordered.
Natasha shoved Clint out of the way, fingers roaming around the child’s neck before giving the all clear.
Toni took a deep breath in preparation for a final push. Only it wasn’t her final push. Like the Hulk, her baby seemed to have almost unproportionately wide shoulders. No matter how she pushed and strained they wouldn’t come out.
“It’s stuck”, she sobbed, and suddenly Loki was there next to her as well.
“Your body will stretch”, he assured her. “You merely need to push harder.”
“Easy for you to say!”
“I once gave birth to a horse with eight legs”, Loki countered. “You can give birth to a hulk. I give you my word.”
He tapped her on the forehead with his fingers and suddenly a rush of energy coupled with raw desperation swept through her body. She rocked her hips as heat rushed through her core, the need to get this baby out not unlike the need to orgasm during sex. It was more intense than anything she ever experienced. Her lips throbbed around the baby as she pushed with the pulses of her need. She was stretching, more than ever before. She was so close, her baby was so close. She moaned and threw her head back, hips undulating like she was being fucked. The baby’s bony shoulder was slowly breaching her vagina, pressing against her clitoris. She gave an involuntary shout, grabbing onto her thigh to have something to strain against.
Slowly, the baby’s shoulder breached her, the second following just as slow. She found herself panting between pushes, moaning almost erotically as the downwards movement sped up, the baby finally starting to slide out. She rocked her hips forward. The baby paused, hips momentarily stuck, before practically falling from her body in a rush of fluids. Bruce barely managed to catch it as she collapsed backwards towards Clint and Natasha. They caught her easily.
Seconds later one green angry baby was placed on her chest, screaming his head off and waving tiny fists like he wanted to smash something. He was roughly the size of a two-year-old and he was wrinkly and wet and so very angry.
“I know”, she murmured, kissing the crown of his head. “That was not a fun experience for either of us.”

***

Just as she was delivering the placenta, the door slammed open, revealing Steve and Thor. Steve promptly fainted at the sight.
Later, Clint would tease him, telling him that after seeing the hulked-out baby crown, the placenta was practically a joy to watch. The birth, he claimed, was horror movie-levels of grotesqueness. No one mentioned that he might have puked a little after Steve passed out – not to talk about during the birth. Toni was just happy that her swollen belly had prevented her from seeing what was actually going on with her vagina. That and the fact that Loki apparently could heal her enough that the transport home wasn’t a nightmare.
When her son de-hulked, he turned out to be pretty small and incredibly adorable. It didn't make the angry, green version of him any less adorable, though.

Not sure if there was a Part 2 or I just neglected to add it to the original text.

Ground Hog Day
by Starswhenyoushine

Part 1
The first birth was the longest.

From the moment Megan Carson woke up to Guns N’ Roses’ Sweet Child of Mine and felt a cramp run through her belly, wondering if today was the day she’d meet her own sweet child, to the moment her daughter finally slid out into the doctor’s hands, ten minutes before midnight. During those long hours the one thing that kept her going was the fact that it’d be over soon. Her final push almost caused her to pass out, but she had just enough energy to hold her daughter, gazing down at the scrunched up face and squinting eyes while the doctor harassed her about the placenta. Then the exhaustion took over and she passed out.

***

She woke up pregnant, Sweet Child of Mine playing on the radio.

***

If you asked Megan, she would tell you that being a single mother, preparing to give birth with only the help of strangers in a cold hospital room was bad enough. It was bad enough to have been kicked out by her boyfriend eight months earlier, leaving her homeless and alone. Luckily her aunt owned a bed and breakfast where she could stay in exchange for working in the reception. The bed and breakfast, with the not so witty name Betty’s B&B, had somewhat become a home for her in the past months. She got along well with the staff, perhaps more than well with a certain groundskeeper and maintenance guy. But while she felt like her life was slowly taking a turn for the better, going through a pregnancy without the help of a partner was still a struggle.
So if you asked her, she’d tell you that the first birth was enough to make sure that her daughter remained an only child. Almost sixteen hours of labor, with no one to hold her hand as she pushed and only nurses to give her encouragement - well, it was bad enough. Births 2 through 200 were just the universe’s sick idea of a joke.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes on the second day - well, it was the same day, but her second time living it - running a hand over the globe of her belly and wondering if the birth of her daughter had truly been an extremely vivid dream. She was feeling a bit crampy, but nothing like the contractions of her dream. Briefly she wondered if she’d had contractions during the night, prompting the strange dream. She rubbed a hand over her eyes, yawning, and clumsily rolled out of bed.

***

“Heyy Megan! How’s it going? Still pregnant?” Evan, the groundskeeper / maintenance guy she might have a crush on, greeted, as she met him in the hall. The Deja Vú was intense. He’d said exactly the same thing in her dream. She managed to flash him a smile despite her growing unease.
“Barely”, she responded automatically. “I have a feeling today’s the day.”
His brow furrowed in concern. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No, not yet. It’ll be awhile yet before anything happens.”
If the day kept following the same pattern as her dream, she had almost sixteen hours until the birth of her baby.

***

Four hours later, as the urge to push hit suddenly and unexpectedly in the middle of lunch, she decided to forget about the dream. Apparently her daughter wanted out NOW, in front of Evan and Aunt Betty and all the rest of the staff.
Her water broke, making the baby sink lower as the cushion of water ran down her legs under the table. The pressure got more intense, the baby’s head grinding down, and the urge to push was suddenly irresistible.
“Megan?” Aunt Betty asked when she couldn’t hold back a groan.
Her panic was rising, brain chanting a steady stream of ‘not here, not here, not here’. She tried to get to her feet, thinking she might be able to escape to the bathroom or something. But the moment she got to her feet, her body decided to push with or without the help of her consciousness. She let out a scream as her nether lips started to stretch and burn.
Strong arms swept her off her feet.
“Megan, I’m getting you to the hospital, okay? Just hold on.”
Part of her wanted to trust that Evan would take care of this, get her to the hospital in time and maybe even stay and hold her hand through the birth, but the next contraction struck, reminding her that there wasn’t enough time to leave the room - nevermind getting to the hospital.
“Put me down, put me down! Oh! Oh help, it’s coming out of me, it’s coming. She’s coming OUT!!”
Evan almost dropped her as she kicked out with a leg, spreading her knees and pushing. She felt herself get lowered to the ground, as she kept pushing and straining and spreading and burning. The movement in her vagina slowed to a stop as she felt her pants get tighter and tighter around her hips. She reached a hand down to feel the baby crowning through her maternity jeans. The fabric had been tight before her baby started to come out of her, and now the baby was trapped by the unforgiving fabric. She scrambled for her waistband but was too uncoordinated to get her pants undone.
“Dear Lord”, her Aunt murmured.
Finally someone got her pants down to her knees. It didn’t leave her much room to spread her legs, but she squirmed on the floor, trying to find an angle that would give her leverage to push. She could feel the skull of her child touching the insides of her thighs as she writhed.
Another tug, and her jeans pooled around her ankles. Her knees fell open, and almost effortlessly the head popped out - like it’d just been waiting for the moment it had enough space to move. She groaned and arched her back, feeling the body turning inside her.
“One more push, Megan!”
Evan’s words reminded her about her audience. As she felt her child slip out of her, she was as mortified as she was relieved.
“Darling, it’s a girl”, Aunt Betty sobbed.
Megan let her head fall back, staring up at the black spots that seemed to dance in the ceiling. She closed her eyes.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes and looked down at her pregnant body.

***

“Heyy Megan! How’s it going? Still pregnant?
“Barely. I have a feeling today’s the day.”
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
She hesitated, remembered the utter spectacle of giving birth in the dining room in front of her colleagues and surrogate family.
“Yes, please. If it’s not too much trouble.”

***

The hospital sent her home again. She was restless and paranoid, and the contractions were pretty painful, so a few hours later, she asked Evan to take her back. This time they let her stay at the hospital, but it was a good nine hours before her daughter was born. She absolutely hated the experience, all that time spent waiting in a clinical room while her body tied itself into knots. It was worth it to hold her daughter, though. She kissed a tiny forehead and closed her eyes.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”

Megan Carson opened her eyes, as pregnant as she’d been the previous morning.

***

“Heyy Megan! How’s it going? Still pregnant?”
“Barely. I have a feeling today’s the day.”
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“Nah. It’ll be awhile yet before anything happens. I think I’ll go back to bed after breakfast, try to get a bit more sleep.”

***

The contractions weren’t as painful this time, or maybe she just wasn’t very far along yet. She woke up from her nap to her breasts tingling. Her milk was coming in. She brushed a hand over the dark spot on her shirt and as it touched her nipple, she felt a different sort of tingling. She kept rubbing against her nipples, while her other hand sneaked down between her thighs.
As she orgasmed, her water broke. She didn’t call anyone. Instead she kept moaning and rubbing, pushing occasionally and finally reaching another orgasm as her daughter started crowning. Somehow that birth wasn’t so bad.

***

The next day, she tried to repeat her orgasmic birth - but no luck. Instead she had an extremely painful hospital birth - forceps were involved.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes, and tried not to cry at the sight of her pregnant belly.

***

“Heyy Megan! How’s it going? Still pregnant?”
“Barely. I have a feeling today’s the day.”
“Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“Nah, not yet. I wouldn’t mind some company, though. How about a walk in the garden?”

***

Giving birth in the garden was about on par with giving birth in the dining room. Aunt Betty wasn’t there, but she still had Evan to help. She still came pretty close to giving birth in her clothes.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes, reasonably sure she’d gone insane.

***

She was at her wits end. Nothing was making sense. She needed to somehow get to tomorrow, but everytime she passed out after giving birth, the day restarted.
She paused from pacing up and down her bedroom. Maybe, if she could hold off giving birth until the day was over. If the day was already over it shouldn’t be able to restart. Right?

***

Megan pressed her hands against the wall, hunching over around her belly. She rocked her hips slowly from side to side and tried to stay quiet. This labor had been slow, but she was afraid it wouldn’t be slow enough. She still had an hour to go before midnight. She bent lower and tried to stifle her moans against her arm.
This labor had started later, giving her hope that she’d be able to make it through the day without giving birth. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure.
One thing she’d discovered while repeating the same day over and over, was that nothing she did had any real consequences. Sure, her choices affected when and where she gave birth, but except for the deliveries, nothing about this day ever changed. How, when and where she gave birth - well it never happened quite the same way. But then she’d wake up to the same song, eat the same thing for breakfast and have the same conversations with the same people. If she insulted them, they’d never remember it after she woke up. It was like a complete reset.
Assuming it would work the same - that if any harm came to the baby, everything would be fine when she woke up - was maybe a stretch. She wouldn’t risk her baby’s life unnecessarily. But she felt like she was going insane and she was prepared to try anything to make this nightmare end. And to (hopefully) make this nightmare end, she needed to slow down the birth.
She decided to put on a swimsuit. It was uncomfortably tight, cutting into her shoulders and chafing a bit down there. It pressed on her belly in a way that made her feel like she couldn’t breathe. She felt pretty sure the baby wouldn't be able to come out while she was wearing this pre-pregnancy bathing attire, but she still added normal clothes on top of it.
She wanted to lay down in bed, as walking and moving around was probably speeding things up, but any time she stopped moving the pain got too bad. She spent some time rocking on her hands and knees on the floor. She waddled around her room, hands pressed to the small of her back. She pressed her arms and forehead against a wall, shoving her hips backwards and moving them from side to side. Against her will, she found herself squatting down a bit whenever a contraction hit.
The pressure was a lot worse than the pain now. There was an urgency in it, a terrible need to push. Her body was screaming at her for resisting the urge, occasionally tensing down without her permission. The blunt skull of the baby’s head pressed lower, grinding against her insides. She felt like she might explode if the pressure didn’t let up soon.
Megan sat down on the edge of her bed and tried to cross her legs, but her belly was too low and she couldn’t find an angle to make that position work for her. A new contraction hit, and she leaned forwards, legs spreading wide. Her body was locking up in another push - she could feel the baby press lower.
As the contraction let up she realised that while this position felt good to push in, it also left her vagina pressed hard against the bed. Maybe that was a good compromise. She could push, do something about that terrible pressure, but the baby wouldn’t be able to crown. She glanced at the clock. Only half an hour left till midnight.
On the following contractions she let herself push, and MAN, it felt good. The movement of the baby didn’t hurt as much when she was working with her body. In no time at all, she felt her vagina press harder against the bed as the baby made her lips bulge.
She looked at the clock again. Crap. She’d only been pushing properly for five minutes, meaning she had twenty five left to midnight.
She shifted restlessly as the next contraction approached. Sitting down meant that all she could think about was pushing. She needed to move, distract herself from the urge. She was so close to making this nightmare end. Too close to give up now.
With a hand pressed against her vagina to make sure her movements didn’t cause the baby to shift outwards, she slowly got to her feet. Against all instincts she straightened up and shifted her feet closer together. Keeping a hand pressed between her legs, making sure everything stayed in place, she started walking around the room, using tiny steps and leaning on the wall to keep upright. Every time a contraction hit, she pressed her legs together as hard as she could. She also pushed - it seemed nothing could stop her from doing that now.
As time wore on she could feel the bulge under her hand growing. A familiar burning accompanied the sensation and she knew she was starting to crown. And as always, the baby crowning only increased the urge to get it out, right the fuck NOW.
She couldn’t hold back the pushes any more than she could make the arms of the clock move faster. She sunk to her knees and pushed with all her might, pressing a fist to her mouth to stifle the sounds she was making. The baby pressed down and she could feel her chafing bathing suit really starting to halt its descent.
“Oh fuck. Oh God. Oh God. Shit. Oooh.”
She twisted, somehow found herself lying on her back, hips raised, knees spread and soles of her feet pushing against the floor. Her hands somehow managed to undo her pants and she shoved the fabric down as fast as she could.
“Oh shit. Oh shit. OH!”
She rolled to her side, hunched around her belly, kicking her legs restlessly. Another twisting movement and she was back on her knees, legs splayed wide beneath her.
She pushed, back arching and hips pumping closer to the floor. The straining fabric of her swimsuit made her shoulders burn. It was bulging over her baby’s head, trying to reach a full crown. Her hands tugged on the slippery fabric, trying to move it to the side, but it was stretched too tight and refused to move.
“Oh no. Oh God, please no. Oh fuck.”
A small voice in the back of her head tried to remind her that she wore the garment for a reason, that it was supposed to keep the baby inside her - but all rational thought had left the building, completely replaced by overwhelming need.
She ripped open her shirt, buttons flying. With fumbling fingers she tried to slip her swimsuit off her shoulders. The fabric cut deep into her skin, refusing to stretch enough to shift over the bone of her shoulder. As another contraction, another push rolled through her, the fabric only became more unforgiving, her desperation growing.
“Oh God. Oh help. OH HELP! FUCK! Oh AAARGH!”
She’d forgotten all about being silent. Stuck at a full crown in clothes that absolutely would not let her give birth, she was writhing and crying and pushing and screaming.
The door slammed open.
She had her fingers clenched in a shoulder strap, still desperately trying to remove the garment, when big warm hands caught her shoulders, expertly cutting the strap with a pocket knife. The second strap followed, and as her body clenched down, she finally felt herself make progress.
With the bathing suit loosened, the baby’s head popped out so suddenly, the release of pressure made her dizzy. She was trembling and shuddering all over, her gasping breaths close to hyperventilation.
“Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh OW!”
She found herself shifted onto her back, as Evan worked to get the swimsuit off her. She twisted and writhed, not helping him in the least, but the baby’s shoulders were grinding down, and…
“OOH fuck. Aouch. ARGH!”
She pushed. She kicked out with her leg, threw her head back, her skull connecting hard enough with the floor that she saw stars. She could feel the baby’s body moving through her vagina, uncomfortable but softer than the head had been. And then it was outside of her, landing in the remains of her swimsuit.
Evan was frantic, but somehow managed to rub down her daughter with her discarded shirt. As the screaming baby was placed on her belly, her eyes found the clock on the wall. She let her eyes drift shut as it finally ticked over to midnight.

***

“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes to the feeling of her daughter tap dancing on her bladder.

Tree Refuge
By Starswhenyoushine
Since more and more people were rendered infertile, the government had issued breeder-facilities. The breeders consisted of those who could still sire or give birth to children. While they didn’t have a choice, they weren’t necessarily treated badly. They could basically do whatever they wanted as long as they didn’t leave the faculty and it didn’t harm any unborn children. The major downside for the breeders was that they could never keep their babies.
You are a female breeder, and you are currently pregnant with your first. Very pregnant. Nine months and maybe the slightest bit overdue pregnant. Your belly is round and heavy, hanging low on your slight frame. The baby’s head feels like a bowling ball in your pelvis. The weight of it on your cervix makes you instinctively want to squat, to open yourself up and make more room.
Unfortunately squatting isn’t an option as you run through the forest as fast as your legs can carry you. All the movement is making your belly and back cramp painfully, but thankfully the baby isn’t kicking much at least. It’s difficult to avoid stumbling on tree roots, as you can’t actually see them past your belly, but determination alone keeps you on your feet as you flee through the woods.
During the course of your pregnancy, you had come to love your child deeply, and you can’t bear the thought of giving him or her away. Luckily the baby’s father had felt the same way. He was a new breeder himself, not ready to give up and let the government treat you all like animals. As your belly grew, the two of you had fallen in love and dreamt of running away together, raising your child in one of the resistance camps or in the forest if you had to. The plan had been to leave together. Unfortunately, you were discovered in the process of escaping, and he chose to stay behind to buy you more time.
So here you were, running for your life through the trees, while your belly kept cramping. It was starting hurt. A lot. And every step made the child feel heavier on your strained cervix. The pressure was growing, and you really wanted to squat to try to relieve it.
As you stopped momentarily to catch your breath, breathing hard with your hands on your knees, you heard a sound that made your blood freeze. The howl of a wolf.
There were stories, at the facility, about what happened if you tried to run away. She had thought them to be rumors made up to scare people off from trying to escape, but as it turned out they were very real. While breeders were valuable and treated well at the facility, they were a flight risk that had to be minimized through any means necessary. So, if a breeder actually escaped, the facility staff released a flock of mutated wolfs to hunt down and kill the runaway, before dragging the body back home for all the other breeders to see. This method had lowered the number of escapees considerably and in the end they lost less breeders by killing the runaways, than by dragging them back so they could try again. No breeder wanted to risk both themselves and their unborn child like that. No one but you, that is, as you hadn’t believed the stories.
Another howl cuts through the night, echoed by two other wolves. They already sound closer. That’s when you know you’re doomed. There isn’t the slightest chance you could outrun them, even if you weren’t nine months pregnant. As you think this, your belly cramps down hard making you hunch over and involuntarily spread your legs a bit more. You grab onto the nearest tree to keep your balance as you squat down slightly. The pressure in your hips is reaching unbearable levels. But you don’t have time to worry about that now.
As the contraction releases you - because it is contractions, there’s no denying it anymore - you realize that the tree you’re gripping is both tall and surprisingly climbable. You’re pretty sure that wolves aren’t natural climbers, and well, it’s not like you could outrun them anyway. Climbing a tree might be your only chance.
You used to climb a lot as a kid, so you think your chances of climbing this tree in time are reasonable, even while quite possibly in labor. You grab onto a sturdy branch and start heaving yourself up, holding yourself as close to the tree trunk as your belly will allow. At first it goes pretty well, but as you reach a gap in the branches, you pause, at a loss for what to do.
You lift your right leg as high as you possibly can, managing to put your foot on the next branch. Momentarily stuck in this position, you feel a soft pop inside you, before a stream of water rushes down your legs, drenching your pants. Your eyes widen at the sudden release of pressure. You remain like that for a moment, trying to take in what just happened.
A new contraction runs through you, like a barbed wire tightening around your middle. Your cramping muscles squeeze around your baby, pressing it in and downwards. You can’t hold back a pained moan as the pressure on your cervix returns with a vengeance. You feel like you need to push, desperately.
A howl cuts through the relative silence of the night and you realize the wolves are closing in on your location, no doubt tracking your scent. You force yourself to move, your muscles straining and your pelvis shifting uncomfortably as you heave yourself up on the next branch. You’re still too close to the ground and as you have no idea how big, mutated wolves are, you need to get as high as you possibly can.
As you keep climbing upwards, your baby moves steadily downwards through your body. You feel it stretching your insides, filling your birth canal and making your softened pelvis shift to make room. It feels like the baby could fall right out of you, and only the knowledge that it will take a bit more work than that allows you to keep moving.
The contractions are nearly on top of each other, and you can’t stop tensing up with them, giving light pushes, grunting softly with each. It’s getting harder to move your legs, but you’re stubborn enough to not give up yet. The baby’s head feels like it’s right between your legs, and you’re afraid of opening your legs too wide, while at the same time you’re desperate to spread them and make room.
The howl of a wolf sounds from below you. As you look down you see five enormous wolves circling your tree. They’ve found you.
One of the wolves jump for you, its teeth snapping right below your foot. You try to climb higher, but another contraction stops you in your tracks. Again, you can’t help pushing, and you feel your pants tightening around your hips as you start bulging. The head is right there. It’s about to come out.
In the brief pause before the next contraction you climb another two branches, gaining a little more distance from the bloodthirsty wolves. With the next contraction, the next push, you feel your nether lips drag against your panties, opening into a teardrop shape. You start to feel a burning sensation between your legs as you struggle to crown.
Finally, you allow yourself to squat, white-knuckling the branches to keep yourself from falling, as you give in to the demands of your body and push as hard as you can. Your teardrop shaped opening widens into a burning circle as the head of your baby presses down into your underwear. Your pants are bulging outwards with your efforts, as you strain to push out your baby.
As you stop pushing to catch your breath, you can feel the baby’s head reseeding slightly as your tight pants try to return to their normal shape. You release one of the branches you’re holding onto, reaching down with one hand to feel between your legs. The bulge is big enough to freak you out, because you’re not even fully crowned yet - the baby is huge. You tug ineffectively at your pants, but as the next contraction hits, you need to grab onto the branch again to keep from falling.
You can’t hold back a strained scream as you push with all your might, the baby’s head crowning more with your efforts. Your pants are stretching over the bulge of the head, allowing you to get to the cusp of a full crown, but as you once again relax at the end of the contraction, the tight pants try to force the baby back in side. Your legs shake violently, and you whine at the uncomfortable sensation.
You need to get your pants off. You struggle to straighten up and one handedly start pulling your pants down. They’re down to the middle of your thighs as the next contraction hits and you feel tears start streaming down your face as try and fail to spread your legs. Your body is screaming at you to get the head out. But it’s not going to happen with your pants keeping your legs this close together. You feel the top of the baby’s head, barely contained by your own straining lips pressing against the inside of your thighs, trying to find room to come out.
As you keep trying to spread your legs, you notice that your pants start riding up your thighs, stopping beneath your butt. While you know you need to get them off, this allows you to spread your legs a bit again, and you take full advantage of it as you push. You squat lower and shove your knees as far apart as you can, the waistband of your pants riding up higher on your butt. While your pants are now considerably lower than before, they are back in a position where they might keep the baby from coming out. At least it’s not a problem yet. Your desperate pushes have gotten the baby to a full crown, where it’s now stuck - not because of your pants, but because your lips won’t stretch any more.
The contractions are on top of each other, keeping you in an endless loop of pushing, trying to catch your breath and pushing again. Your body won’t let you rest through the contractions, despite how ineffective your pushes currently are. The baby is stuck.
You try to circle your hips as you squat deeper. With the next push you try to snap your hips forward. You rock them backwards again and repeat the motion as you push. Your lips pulse and throb around the baby’s head as you keep rocking your hips back and forth, pushing with all your might. Finally, you feel a slight movement between your lips, and you let out a scream as you feel the head pop out of you in a rush of fluids.
You’re shaking so badly you can hardly keep yourself from falling out of the tree as the baby turns inside you, shoulders lining up with your aching opening. You can’t see your baby, despite how your belly has shrunk, since it’s completely covered by your pants. Your lips are still pulsing and throbbing around the baby’s neck as you rock your hips from side to side, trying to dislodge your child.
Once again you can feel your muscles tightening in a contraction. You push as hard as you can, desperate for this to be over, but nothing happens. You don’t know if it’s your pants, once again keeping the baby inside or if the baby’s shoulders are too wide to come out, but it’s stuck. You sob as the contraction releases its grip on you, the baby still halfway inside of you, the wolves still circling below you.
The next contraction seems to be even harder than the previous ones, squeezing your baby painfully downwards. You push with all your might, snapping your hips forward again, and finally you feel a shoulder slip out, closely followed by the second, and the baby slides out of you, landing in your pants.
You realize what a good thing it is that you didn’t take your pants off, because you probably wouldn’t have been able to catch your baby without them. As it is, those awful pants save your baby from becoming wolf chow. As you manage to release one of the branches you’re clinging to and pull down the front of your pants, the baby bagged there lets out a healthy cry.
You’re still week and shaky, there’s a cord hanging out of you, still connecting you to the baby that you have no idea how you’re gonna be able to pick up without falling out of the tree. The wolves are still circling, the smell of blood and birth keeping them interested.
As you watch them, one suddenly crumples to the ground with a wounded sound. The shaft of an arrow is sticking out from between its ribs. You manage to catch a whooshing sound before the next wolf falls, this time with an arrow in its eye. As someone methodically continues to take out the wolves, you look around, searching for the archer. Finally, you get eyes on what appears to be hunting party, except hunting is forbidden and archery ancient.
The hunting party consists of three members - two men and a woman. The woman kills the final wolf before searching out the wolves intended pray. As she lays eyes on you, she makes a wounded noise and starts to rapidly climb the tree. She reaches you in seconds, steadying you and helping you pick up your still softly crying baby and lay him on your chest. You start sobbing with relief as you realize that you’ve given birth to a very much alive son.
She murmurs soothingly as she immediately gets to work tying off and cutting the cord before helping you pull your pants up all the way. You haven’t delivered the placenta yet and the cord feels slimy against the inside of your thigh, but she tells you that she wants to get you down from the tree first. She wraps her scarf around you and your son, effectively tying your baby to your chest so you will have your hands free. Then she helps you climb down, one of the men meeting you halfway to make sure you put your feet on the correct branches.
As soon as you reach the ground you sag into the arms of the closest man, all strength gone. They fuss over you and your baby, wrapping you in a big jacket before carefully carrying you from the site. You nod of briefly, too exhausted to be afraid of these strangers.
Sometime later you start cramping again. You try to hide it, but the man carrying you notices that you keep tensing up and calls for the woman before carefully setting you down, leaning against a tree.
“Is it the placenta?” she asks and you want to deny it, want to get their attention away from you.
But these people saved you and you’re starting to feel like you want to push, so you squeeze your eyes shut and nod miserably. The woman helps you out of your pants, making sure you sit on a blanket rather than the cold dirty ground. She rubs your belly gently to ease the cramping and help detach the placenta from your uterus, pulling gently on the cord and telling you to push. She seems to know an awful lot about childbirth considering most people outside of the breeder facilities have never even seen pregnant women.
When the placenta is out, she carefully helps you back into your disgusting pants, wrapping the thing that’s kept your baby alive all these months in the now soiled blanket. You don’t know what she does with it as you’re once again lifted into strong arms. You hear her mention bleeding in a worried tone, and maybe that’s why you feel so lightheaded. You pass out.
The sound of multiple voices talking in the distance rouses you and you strain your neck to see what’s going on. You’re in a large camp, filled with people dressed in simple clothes. You can see someone cooking over an open fire. So primitive. That’s when you realize where you are. This is one of the rebel camps. You truly got away from the government.
The woman who saved you, helps you clean up and make sure you get food in you. She tells you that she used to be a breeder but ran away like you. You get to meet her daughter, a laughing five-year-old girl with her hair in braids and dirt on her nose.
She tells you that her hunting party was out looking for food when they heard the wolves. That’s when they knew someone had managed to escape. She seems very relieved that they found you in time.
After you’ve eaten, you sit by the fire, nursing your son and trying to keep from falling asleep until he’s done. There’s laughs and greetings as another hunting party returns. You lazily raise your eyes to track the newly arrived people only to freeze in place as you recognize one of them. The love of your life and the father of your baby meet your eyes over the fire before practically throwing himself to your side. He cries as he holds you, and place kisses anywhere he can reach on both you and the baby. You cry, as well.
You got away. You both survived. And while the resistance camp lacks some things you’re used to - like indoor plumbing - you get to stay here and raise your son together. Just like you dreamed of.

Thank you for recovering these

Groundhog Day, Part 2 (Final part)

PART 2
Megan Carson was quickly becoming an expert on birth. She’d had more different births than she cared to remember. She’d given birth in the supermarket, in the stairway, in Evan’s car on the way to the hospital. She’d had slow births, fast births, painful births and orgasmic births. She’d had a breech birth, an emergency c-section that made her pass out before she even got to see her daughter and a birth with unknown complications that she was pretty sure had killed them both. Everytime she woke up to that same song - still pregnant.
It felt like she’d lived through a hundred variations of the same day, and while the births didn’t become easier per say, she did notice she was becoming better at delivering. She knew how hard to push and when - she really didn’t want a repeat of that time she started pushing too soon, tearing herself and becoming utterly exhausted long before the baby was crowning. She knew what positions usually worked best for her. She knew how to shift if the shoulders got stuck. She knew how utterly painful it was if the baby was “sunny side up”, face turned towards her front and completely changing the angle.
No matter what she did, she couldn’t get free from the time loop. No matter how she changed the events of the day, a few things were always the same. She always woke up to the tune ‘Sweet Child of Mine’. She always gave birth to a daughter. And she always passed out before delivering the placenta.
She looked into the Groundhog Day phenomenon. She remembered an episode of the show Supernatural where one of the characters kept reliving the same day and it always ended with his brother dying. He finally got out of the time loop by finding the creature that kept him trapped. Then there was that old 90’s movie where this one guy got stuck reliving a day in a sleepy little town that he hated. She thought she remembered him getting free by confessing his love for this one woman and deciding to never leave. And that he possibly learned to play the piano during his time loop.
Neither pop culture examples really helped her. She didn’t know what was causing her situation or what lesson, if any, she was supposed to learn. But like Sam in Supernatural one day discovered a diner patron changing his food choices, one day something changed for Megan as well. One of the things that never changed.
***
The day started like it always did. That same song on the radio. That same conversation with Evan in the hallway. The same breakfast. Her Aunt Betty talking about the roses in the garden. The cook swearing at the kitchen girl who’d dropped a plate. That old high school teacher checking out, stealing the towels. Her labor starting.
Sometimes Aunt Betty helped her through her labor, but she preferred when it was Evan. He was calm and steady in a way that Aunt Betty never could be. She decided to seek him out today, despite the fact that her contractions were still mild and far apart.
She sat on a bench in the garden, watching him swear at Aunt Betty’s rose bushes. The thorns kept scratching through his gloves as he tried to trim the bloody things. She knew that he loved gardening - was the real reason behind Aunt Betty’s beautiful garden - but apparently today’s job wasn’t his favorite.
“How are you doing, Megan?” he asked as she sighed after another mild contraction.
“I’m okay. I’m actually not sure this even counts as labor. It’s not painful at all.”
She kept thinking about that movie as she watched him work. Maybe a love confession would actually work. She hadn’t tried that yet.
“Hey, Evan?” she said and then hesitated.
It wasn’t as if she was really nervous - he wouldn’t remember any conversation they had if the time loop continued. He’d already forgotten hundreds of different conversations, including the one where she actually managed to convince him that she was stuck in a time loop. She took a deep breath and decided to go for it.
“Evan, I’m in love with you.”
Evan dropped the shears into a rose bush and struggled to reach them without scratching his eyes out. The garden was filled with the sound of his swearing. He finally got ahold of them and put them down, out of the way. Turned around.
“You’re what?”
In for a penny, in for a pound…
“I’m in love with you. I know it’s not the best timing, I’m about to have a baby and my life is about to change forever, but I thought you should know: I love you. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I wouldn’t pressure you - especially since me and the baby are kind of a package deal and… Huh.”
She halted her ramblings as the pressure in her pelvis drastically increased. The contractions were still mild enough that she barely felt them, but there was water running down her legs and she felt like she needed to push.
“Megan, no, you just took me by surprise. This is all very sudden, but I do think that I love you too. I’ve had a crush on you since you showed up, but you were just coming out of a relationship and then there was the baby and… Hey, are you okay?”
She’d gone quiet, leaned back on the bench and started pushing.
“Baby’s coming. Get my pants of.”
She went back to pushing, legs splaying wide. Already a bulge was forming in the crotch of her pants.
Evan quickly pulled down the garment, just in time to catch her baby. This was the first time she had a practically painless birth, but that wasn’t the big thing that was different with today. It was the words Evan said as he laid the screaming baby in her arms, right before she passed out.
“It’s a boy.”
***
“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes, and looked down at her belly with confusion.
Before the first birth, she hadn’t had any idea if she was having a boy or a girl. She hadn’t been able to afford more than one ultrasound, and that time the baby was in a really weird position, making it impossible to tell. But every time she’d repeated this day, every one of her probably more than a hundred births - had ended with her giving birth to a daughter. Not a son.
Maybe other things could change too.
She had already tried to hold off the birth until the next day and she did not want a repeat of that experience. But maybe she could figure out a way to not pass out as soon as the birth was over.
***
She tried giving birth in bed, slow and relaxed, a glass of water and a bar of chocolate ready on the nightstand. She ended up falling asleep before passing the placenta.
***
She tried another hospital birth, despite the fact that she’d really started to dislike the hospital. She really preferred the births where her close ones had to help her because everything happened so fast. She’d try that again tomorrow, she decided, as the dark spots took over her vision.
***
“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson opened her eyes and let a hand run over the tense skin of her belly, lost in thought. So far she hadn’t been able to keep from passing out. But last time something changed she’d been with Evan, and had just confessed her love for him. Maybe she should try that again.
***
“Heyy Megan! How’s it going? Still pregnant?”
“Barely”, she responded. “I have a feeling today’s the day.”
His brow furrowed in concern. “Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”
“No, not yet. It’ll be awhile yet before anything happens.”
She started walking past him before stopping.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. Do you have a minute?”
***
“So, what did you want to talk about?”
Evan had brought a tray with breakfast into her room so they could talk in private while they ate. Megan appreciated the respite from having to listen to Aunt Betty talk about the rose bushes during breakfast.
“Well firstly, it’s about the baby”, she said at last.
“Is everything okay?”
She appreciated his immediate concern.
“Yes, don’t worry, everything is fine. I just wanted to ask if… When the time comes… Would you be there? With me?”
His eyes widened dramatically.
“When you give birth? You want me to be there when you give birth?”
She winced at his tone.
“You don’t have to. It’s just… I don’t want to do it alone and there’s no one el… - I mean, it’s just that I’m scared and you have a way of always making me feel safe.”
It wasn’t strictly speaking true, the births didn’t really scare her any more, not as much as the fact of them - what she was truly afraid of was this time loop never ending. She was terrified of giving birth every day for the rest of her life, never actually getting the chance to know her baby. Some of that fear must’ve shown on her face because his eyes softened.
“Of course I’ll stay with you. I’ll make sure you’re safe. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”
She nodded, took a deep breath.
“I know.”
***
He held her during the contractions, let her cling to his shoulders as the pain grew stronger and closer together. He helped her waddle around the room, whispered encouragements in her ear and asked worriedly if they shouldn’t start heading for the hospital. She told him not to worry, that they had a lot of time left and asked him to fill up the bathtub.
She sat on the closed lid of the toilet, watching him prepare a bath for her. He carefully checked the temperature, to make sure it was warm enough but not too hot, and she felt her heart melt a little at the sight.
“Thank you. For doing this. You’ve been amazing through this whole thing. Not just the labor, but the pregnancy too.”
He smiled up at her from the floor next to the tub.
“Don’t thank me. You’re the one doing all the hard work. And it can’t be easy, doing this without…”
His eyes drifted down to her belly, and she had a feeling she knew what he was trying to say.
“The baby’s father means nothing to me. You’re the only one I would want to be here.”
Something shifted in his eyes and this time she knew exactly what he was thinking. The room felt hotter all of a sudden.
“I love you.”
They said it at the same time, like in some cheesy rom-com. But her entire life had turned into something from a movie anyway. And a contraction distracted her before she had time to think about it more.
***
The bathtub had been an amazing idea. The warm water helped her relax, the tense muscles in her back and hips hurting less. Evan had wanted to give her privacy, but she didn’t trust herself to get into the slippery tub on her own right now and then another contraction hit. She needed him, so he stayed.
She could feel the birth approaching as she shifted restlessly in the tub. The contractions were relentless and the pressure was intense, but the warm water and Evan’s presence helped her keep calm.
She was currently on her knees, forehead pressed against the cool surface of the tub, hands whiteknuckling the sides. Evan was rubbing her back soothingly, continuously telling her that she was doing well. The pressure surged and she let out a groan, spreading her knees as wide as the bath would allow. She sunk lower in the water, rocking her hips and felt her belly rub against the floor of the tub.
“Ohh.”
Her gasp and the way the water turned slightly yellow, with strings of pink floating around, were the only outward signs that her water had broken. Inside though, the urge to push took over her entire being.
“Megan? Was that…? Wait, are you pushing? Stop, stop, wait, we need to go to the hospital!”
“Too late”, she grunted and kept pushing.
“Too late?!”
He seemed to take a deep breath, gathering himself.
“Okay, I don’t know what to do. What do you need me to do?”
She couldn’t answer him, too busy pushing. The baby was moving rapidly through her birth canal, almost there. The pressure was insane. She shifted uncomfortably, moaned. Reached a hand down to her bulging crotch. Groaned. Distantly noted that she sounded like a cow.
“Get towels. Soft. And scissors. Clean. Something to tie the cord… Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Her nether lips were spreading, forming a teardrop shape beneath her fingers. It was starting to burn.
“Hooo. Oh, shit. It burns, it burns, it burns, it burns”, she chanted, feeling the baby’s skull spreading her open.
“You’re okay”, Evan murmured, back beside her after a mad dash to get the things she requested. “You’re doing great.”
She just whimpered in response, stuck at a full crown and suddenly terrified of pushing. Afraid of tearing, of making it hurt even more. Her stomach muscles kept clenching down, trying to force the baby out, even as she tried not to push.
“Aaaahh. Oh, shit. OOOHH, shit. Ow. Oh, FUUU…”
Her words dissolved in a scream, as she felt the head slowly breach her. For one endless moment it burned worse, her body stretched to the limit, and then with a soft pop, the head was born.
Keeping up a stream of swearing she managed to shift herself upright. She turned so she was squatting, giving Evan a clear view of the head hanging out of her vagina. The baby turned and she gave one last push, finally feeling it leave her body.
“It’s a girl!”
Evan caught the baby, helping her get a hold of her. Megan sobbed, gazing down at her daughter, while Evan figured out how to tie off and cut the cord. For a long moment, the only sounds were Megan’s ragged breaths and the screams of a newborn.
“What happens now?” Evan asked at last.
She looked up, realised that she probably hadn’t been conscious this long before. Her uterus was still contracting, which clued her in.
“Placenta, I think.”
As she said that, she started to feel like she wanted to push. She shifted uncomfortably, bearing down. There was a pressure behind her opening, getting worse by the minute. It hurt. A lot. Almost like…
“Something’s wrong”, she murmured, making Evan freeze. “It shouldn’t, it feels like…”
That was as far as she got before the urge to push slammed into her like a bulldozer.
She was already loose from giving birth, but she was also sore. Her lips spread quickly, the head of her second baby coming fast. Her thighs shook and burned but she couldn’t move, she was already crowning.
Her vagina was stretched to the limit, throbbing and burning. Time slowed down to a crawl, the seconds feeling like minutes, her heart beating like a drum in her ears. Within the stretched circle of her lips, the head sat, refusing to move despite her pushes. Her breathing was harsh and fast, letting out a moan on every exhale. The baby kicked inside her, like it was trying to escape, to swim out of her. The movement caused her to gasp as the angle changed, her lips giving a violent throb. And then, suddenly, the head was out.
“Megan. Oh wow, Megan you’re having twins!”
Right. Evan was there. She wasn’t alone. She handed her daughter to him, let him wrap her in a towel and carefully set her down out of the way. Her second baby needed her focus now.
“Is it a boy?” she panted.
Evan gave a slightly hysterical laugh.
“I don’t know Meg, I can’t tell from a head.”
“It’s a boy”, she decided.
It was the only logical explanation. That one time in the garden, her son had come out first, but every other time she’d passed out before she could deliver him.
She felt his shoulders grind against her pelvis as he turned and got ready for a final push. She held her breath and bore down until her ears popped. A sharp ache grew in her pelvis, but she didn’t feel the baby move.
“Oh, fuck. Shit. He’s stuck.”
“What?!”
“His shoulder is stuck. Help me out, I gotta lie down.”
Evan’s hands grabbed her upper arms and she dug her fingers into his shoulders as he slowly helped her rise from her squat. When she was somewhat upright, he kept her steady as she struggled to lift her leg over the side of the tub. Before she could move her other foot, a contraction struck, and her knees promptly gave out.
Evan’s grip tightened and he somehow managed to keep her from slamming the baby’s head against the side of the tub as she stumbled. He kept her upright while she screamed and shook and desperately tried to keep from pushing.
Finally the pain let up enough that she could get the rest of the way out of the bath. He lowered her carefully to the bathroom floor. As soon as she was flat on her back, she weaved her arms under her knees, pulling her legs back as far as she could. This was one of the positions she’d learned for getting shoulders unstuck.
“Press on my feet”, she instructed breathlessly. “We need my hips more. More open. Ooof. Hah. Hooooh.”
She waited until he was in position before giving it her all. The baby’s shoulder still grated painfully against her insides, but she felt it move this time. She pushed harder.
She let up when black spots started dancing in her vision, took a deep breath. She thought she could hear Aunt Betty’s voice in the background, and then Evan calmly telling someone to call 911. She took another quick breath before bearing down again.
It moved. Slowly but surely, the baby’s shoulder moved past the place where it’d been stuck, probably her pubic bone. She gasped for another quick breath and pushed again. The shoulders slowly pressed out, spreading her lips wide. She felt one of them jab into a certain bundle of nerves and couldn’t keep from screaming.
She was so tired. And she hurt so bad. She wanted nothing more than to give up and pass out, try again tomorrow. But then Evan’s voice was there, strong and sure.
“You’ve got this, Megan. You are so close. It’s incredible what your body can do - is doing. Just one more push, come on!”
She nodded shakily, took a deep breath, and gave all she had left.
The baby’s shoulder pressed harder against her clitoris, rubbing painfully against it as it squeezed past. She let out a screeching noise, followed by a guttural groan as the baby’s body slowly moved through her opening. It stopped briefly at the hips, but Evan gave a gentle tug, and suddenly it was over.
“You were right, Megan! It’s a boy!”
It sounded like Evan was crying. She didn’t blame him. No matter how many times she gave birth, it was always a traumatic and stressful experience. But she didn’t cry. She just felt tired. She closed her eyes and let the cries of two newborns follow her into unconsciousness.
***
“Woah-oh-oh! Sweet child o’ mi-ine…”
Megan Carson slammed open her eyes and immediately pressed both hands to her swollen belly. It was tender and felt weirdly hard beneath her hands, but it was also obvious that there was no baby inside it.
“They’re okay, Megan. They’re both okay.”
She looked up and found Evan sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, next to what she now realised was her hospital bed.
“I gave birth yesterday”, she murmured, astonished by how it seemed to be the final time she could say that. For once she didn’t wake up pregnant. Meaning she couldn’t give birth again today.
“That you did”, Evan chuckled. “Scared the crap out of me, by the way. No time to go to the hospital, surprise twin, complications…” All humor left his voice toward the end of the sentence.
“What happened?”
“You started bleeding. A lot. The ambulance showed up just in time.”
She nodded and tried to stifle a yawn. That made sense. Maybe the same thing had happened after all the other births too. Maybe she’d died - and by surviving this time stopped the day from being reset. Or maybe there was some other reason. At least the major blood loss explained why she felt so tired right now.
“Get some rest”, Evan murmured, brushing a hand over her forehead.
“Hate this song”, was her response.
He gave a surprised chuckle.
“I thought you loved classic rock?”
“I did. I do.” She paused to yawn. “Just not this song.”
“Okay”, he said, leaning over to switch the song on his phone.
She drifted off to the sounds of Led Zeppelin.
“All of my love… All of my love… Yes, all of my love to you, child…”
THE END

The hazards of being a spy
Emma woke up feeling like she’d been hit by a truck. Her head was pounding and there was a sharp pain in her belly. Someone was saying her name repeatedly.

She managed to pry her eyes open, to find her husband’s worried face a couple of meters away.

”Shane?”

She blinked a few times to make her eyes focus. When her sight stabilized she found that Shane was tied to a chair in front of her and there was dried blood on his face.

”Emma”, he said again, and this time she actually managed to respond.

”Listen to me, Emma. We’re in trouble, kinda, but I need you to stay calm and trust me. Can you do that? Now, are you hurt?”

She looked down at her body to check, because honestly, everything hurt. Her belly was a tight aching globe, resting heavily on her thighs, and her wrists where tied to the arms of the chair she sat in. She tried to move her legs and discovered that her ankles where strapped tightly to the legs of the chair. She was tied down in the same manner as as husband.

”My head hurts”, She decided finally. ”But I don’t think it’s concussion-bad. And my belly is cramping.”

Shane’s face tightened. ”Like labor cramping?”

”I don’t know.”

It was far from the first time she woke up in an unfamiliar place, tied to chair. She and Shane worked as spies for a secret government agency, and since they were both pretty well known for their skills, in the underworld at least, they were quite often targets for kidnapping attempts. Bad guys always assumed that they knew classified stuff, which they did, and that torturing them would make them talk, which it didn’t. This was the first time she’d been kidnapped while she was pregnant, though. And at the moment she was very pregnant. Like, overdue pregnant.

Pretty soon a door to the right of her opened and their kidnappers stepped inside. Two guys, who were obviously hired to be muscle stayed in the background, while the boss, a man with a frankly ridiculous beard, started babbling and making demands. Emma had a hard time focusing, because the cramping was really getting bad now. She shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it wasn’t working. The waistband of her somewhat stretchy pants was cutting into the bottom of her belly in a way it hadn’t before - like her belly had become lower. A new cramp had her leaning forward and holding her breath, her belly pressing hard against her thighs. She really wanted to spread her legs, both to give her belly more room and to widen her hips, because the pressure on them was getting intense.

The boss bad guy didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. Shane was doing an excellent job of keeping the attention on himself. He seemed to have given bad guy the nickname ”Redbeard”, which actually was pretty hilarious. At least until Redbeard had the brutes start breaking Shane’s fingers.

…

Two hours later there was no denying that Emma was in full blown labor. The pain and pressure kept ramping up and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. A little while ago, Redbeard and his crew had decided to finally give them a break, leaving Shane bruised and slightly broken.

”Shane?” she gasped, still slightly out of breath from the latest contraction.

Shane raised his head and blinked owlishly at her a few times, before sharpening his gaze.

”Emma? How’s… How’re…?”

”The baby’s coming.”

”Now?”

”Not this second, but pretty soon yeah.”

Shane straightened up and took as deep a breath as he dared with possibly broken ribs.

”Someone will be coming to rescue us. And in the meantime I’m gonna work on getting us out of here, okay? You work on keeping that baby inside you as long as you can. We have a bet, remember? Baby’s not gonna be born here.”

Before she could respond, the door opened. Their break was apparently over, and in more ways than one, at that - another contraction was squeezing down on her belly. The downwards pressure threatened to drive her insane and she leaned back and tried to spread her legs, shoving her hips forward to widen them. It seemed to work, as the pressure suddenly released. Then warm fluid spread from the crotch of her pants, dripping down her legs and making a puddle on the floor.

”Well, look at that”, said Redbeard with a grin that showed way too many teeth. ”Maybe we should switch it up a bit. See if smart mouth here will talk when it’s the missus that’s hurting.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully before snapping his fingers at the goons. ”Tie her legs together!”

As soon as her legs were freed, she kicked the closest brute in the face, hard enough to break his nose. She would probably have gotten loose, too - she was a highly skilled agent, after all - if she hadn’t been interrupted by another contraction, way more painful than the previous. Her body was screaming at her to push, the urge impossible to resist. She spread her legs wide, butt at the edge of her seat so the armrests wouldn’t be in the way, and pushed. She gasped as she felt the baby’s head slowly starting to move through her strained cervix. With another heaving push she managed to get it fully into her birth canal, before her uterus started to relax again.

Before she had time to catch her breath, the second goon tied her ankles together, then her knees. She tried kicking him with both feet, but holy shit the baby was close. Her hips felt like they might come apart if she tried another move like that. She slouched in the chair a bit, hoping to take the pressure off her poor hips, but with the baby’s head already in her birth canal, it was a hopeless endeavor.

”This will be fun”, said Redbeard, a crazy gleam in his eyes.

…

Her nether lips felt swollen and oversensitive, the baby’s head behind them making them bulge outwards. Emma let her head fall back, trying to conserve energy between contractions. Pushing was fruitless with her legs tied together like this, but she couldn’t help it, victim to her body’s demands. Her damp hair stuck to her face as she panted.

”Could I have some water?” She knew it was a stupid question even before she asked, but it slipped out anyway. She could kill for a glass of water right now.

”What are you prepared to give in exchange?” Redbeard smirked at her answering groan.

Her muscles were tightening again, the shape of her belly visibly changing with the force of it. Her pink tank top clung to her, drenched with sweat and - embarrassingly enough - breast milk. Her contracting belly heaved with each breath, before the spasming pain forced her to hold her breath and push.

Her nethers dragged against her panties, lips spreading. This pain was sharper, like fire between her legs. She let out a scream, the first one since her labor began, and met Shane’s terrified eyes. He’d been keeping up a steady stream of reassuring words since her water broke, but now he paused, at a loss for words in the face of her pain. That scream struck a cord deep inside him, because he’d never heard it before. Not like that. Emma usually handled pain in silence.

Redbeard made a pathetic attempt at a super villain laugh. It was straight-out-of-a-spy-movie bad. If Emma didn’t have a baby slowly crowning in her vagina she would have mocked him for it. As it was SHE HAD A BABY CROWNING IN HER VAGINA.

She fruitlessly tried to spread her legs as she felt the head pressing against her inner thighs and the seat of the chair. She needed to make more room. Leaning forwards and heaving against the armrests, she managed to raise her butt from the seat a few inches. The force of her pushes and the new space behind her thighs allowed the baby to slip out more, tenting her pants as it came to a full crown.

She couldn’t hold the position, though. Her entire body was shaking from strain and exhaustion and as her muscles relaxed, she lost her balance. Her butt hit the unforgiving seat of the chair, pushing the baby back in, to her complete and utter horror.

”Sha-ane”, she gasped as tears and sweat streamed down her face. The gasp turned into a sob.

”Yeah, Shane”, said Redbeard and put his arm around Shane’s shoulder to whisper conspiratorially into his ear. ”What do you say we put her out of her misery, eh?”

Turns out, that’s what Shane had been waiting for - for someone to get close enough. He rocked his chair forward enough to be able to slam it back down on Redbeard’s foot. Then he pulled his elbow backwards, the broken thumb making it possible to slip his hand out of the rope. The elbow hit Redbeard in the face, knocking him into the goon behind him. With a twist, Shane managed to smash his chair against them both, finally breaking it.

Emma watched him make his move, but once again she was hit by a contraction, squeezing her eyes shut as it felt like someone was tightening a barbed wire around her middle. She pushed as hard as she could, straining against the ropes as she once again desperately tried to spread her legs.

Two shots being fired shocked her into opening her eyes. She laid eyes on Shane, who had somehow gotten hold of a gun. His left hand was a mess, but otherwise he seamed mostly okay. Thankfully. She couldn’t focus on anything else, outside of the frantic need to birth her child.

Shane was on his knees infront of her in a second, a knife produced from somewhere. It felt like it took an eternity for him to saw through the ropes around her legs, but in reality it went pretty quick. The moment her legs where free she flung them open, the baby’s head practically shooting forwards before the fabric of her pants reached their limit and stopped it.

Emma gasped in a breath and let is out as a sob, because her pants were tight and she needed. The baby. OUT!

Shane stared in shock at the huge bulge his kid’s head was creating in her pants. It was really happening. He was becoming a father.

He made quick work of removing her pants and underwear, leaving them tangled in her shoes. He looked up just in time to see the head pop out.

”Shit”, he muttered and shrugged out of his t-shirt, bringing the soft fabric up to catch the baby as it slid out in a rush of fluids.

Emma let her eyes slip shut momentarily, as she felt the baby leave her body. She felt uncomfortably empty, but after her traumatic labor it was such a relief that all she could do was breath. Just for a second.

She raised her head anxiously when she realized how quiet it was. Before she had time to really panic, though, the sharp cry of a newborn rang trough the room.

”It’s a girl. Emma, it’s a girl.” Shane sounded like he was crying.

She tried to reach out for her baby but discovered that her arms were still tied to the chair. Shane seemed to realize this, too, and for a moment they just stared at each other, completely at a loss. He needed his hands free to cut her loose, and the mere thought of putting their daughter down on the cold dirty floor made them both shudder.

At that moment, the door burst open and kevlar-dressed agents spilled into the room. The extraction team had finally arrived.

…

A few hours later found Emma and Shane in a comfortable hospital room, staring down at their brand new daughter.

”So who won the bet?” murmured Shane.

Emma gave a soft laugh. ”You said she would be born in the hospital. I think I was closer - even if she wasn’t born in the car. Point is we didn’t make it to the hospital.”

Shane snorted and kissed her hair, taking a moment to just breath in her scent.

”Fine, you can name her.”

Emma smiled down at their daughter, as said daughter stretched and emitted a tiny, adorable yawn.

”Lucy.”

This one is a snippet of the sequel but I couldn't find the rest.

Spy in Distress

This is the sequel to my story “the Hazards of Being a Spy”. This one may be a bit darker. So warnings for torture and birth.

Emma was pacing back and forth in her cell. This was the second time she had been kidnapped while heavily pregnant, and if the contractions she was feeling were any indication, it would be the second time she gave birth in captivity. This time unfortunately, she was alone. Her husband Shane was no doubt searching for her, but she doubted he would make it in time.

A contraction struck her, the pressure growing as her contracting womb forced the baby downwards. She leaned against the wall and tried to ignore the growing urge to push. Her water had broken a while ago and the contractions were really ramping up. As she stood bent over her belly, trying not to push, the door to her cell suddenly opened.

”Well, look at that”, said her captor. ”Seems like the fun is about to start.”

So far had they left her mostly alone. They didn’t seem to want information. She had a sneaking suspicion that she’d been kidnapped for the sole purpose of revenge, though. She recognized the leader of the group. She had been the one to put him behind bars a few years ago, so it wasn’t all that strange that he would want to put her in a cell now. Except he seemed to have more planned for her, if he thought the fun only was about to start.

He ordered his men to take her to the ”play room”. They dragged her into a big room that seemed to be full of torture devices. To her great relief they didn’t take her to any of them - instead they tied her arms behind her back and tossed her down in an empty corner. Their leader pulled up a chair and made himself comfortable, content to watch her labor on the floor.

The contractions were ruthless, squeezing down on her with enough force to push the baby down through her body without her consent. She managed get up on her knees so that she could hunch over better, some part of her brain telling her that it hurt less in that position. She screwed her eyes shut and groaned as she felt gravity’s impact on her heavy baby. She really needed to push.

Imagine you’re a superhero who gets pregnant

Turns out the baby is just like you - practically invulnerable. And your city needs you. So you just keep fighting, taking down bad guys, saving the city. It’s okay - you still have time. Next week you’ll go on maternity leave.

The baby dropped last night and you’ve been cramping terribly all day, but you really don’t have time to think about that. First babies are usually slow, anyway. You realize that you’re getting too big and heavy to fly and jump between rooftops, as you have a hard time catching your breath. You are definitely taking maternity leave after this. But the bad guy you’re fighting tonight is actually bordering on super villain, so you better suck it up and get moving.

If only your belly would stop cramping.

You hunch over and grit your teeth as a downright vicious cramp tears through you. The pressure in your hips makes you want to shoot something. Or spread your legs and push, which, yeah… That’s a scary thought.

A flash of purple light has you throwing yourself to the side, taking cover behind a wall as the bad guy shoots at you with his weird energy weapon. You land clumsily, because hello; baby! As you crouch next to the wall you feel a small pop inside you and then warm fluid is running down your legs. It feels so uncomfortable inside your leather suit that it takes a while for you to realize what it means. The baby is definitely coming.

Realization strikes you just as another contraction does, squeezing in on you with such force that you completely loose track of your surroundings. There’s a definite downwards movement inside you and the baby’s head suddenly feels like a bowling ball right between your legs. And there’s this terrible urge to push.

But you’re a superhero, dammit, and there’s a bad guy. As soon as the contraction releases, you’re on your feet, moving towards the ladder he’s in the process of climbing. You can’t hold back a moan as gravity lets your baby slip down further, your nether lips bulging around a head that feels grotesquely huge. While you logically know there’s no chance in hell that you can climb that latter like this, you still move determinedly towards it.

As you grab onto the ladder your belly tightens up again, squeezing your baby downwards with an incredible force. You can’t breathe, can’t think beyond the need to get this baby out of you, right this second. So you gather all your super strength and you push.

You grit your teeth around a scream as you feel yourself parting around your baby’s head, the burning pain completely overwhelming you. It feels like you’re on fire, like someone is shoving a fire-poker between your legs, branding you forever as a mother.

The contraction releases and you gulp in huge lungfuls of air, trying to keep the panic at bay as the baby goes back in a bit, partly because you stopped pushing and partly because, well, your leather suit is tight. And then you really panic, your eyes widening almost comically because you realize that you’re still wearing the suit.

By now the contractions are almost on top of each other, so before you can even think about removing your suit, the pain is back. You’re now completely at the mercy of your own body and it’s demanding that you push. The burning between your legs intensifies as the baby starts crowning more. The hand not white knuckling the ladder goes between your legs to feel the bulge of your baby’s head pressing against the crotch of your suit. You always knew that you carried a big baby but the size of it’s head still surprises you.

The baby finally comes to a full crown and you try to spread your legs more where you stand, alone on a rooftop, delivering your baby into your suit. You draw a quick breath and keep pushing, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back in effort, but nothing happens. Your free hand moves over the bulge where the head is straining against the leather, halfway out but not able to go further. Shit. You need to get your suit off.

As the contraction releases, you fumble with the zipper at your chest, cursing your impractical suit. You almost break the zipper in your haste to get it down, but somehow you manage to unzip it. Unfortunately it ends at the bottom of your belly, a couple of inches above your groin. Your break is already over and you can no longer hold back a scream as your body forces you to push against a baby that’s going nowhere. Your hand goes back between your legs, feeling the baby move the tiniest bit out, the bulge growing slightly with the force of your push. But as soon as you pause to draw a new breath, the bulge shrinks, the leather forcing the baby back into your body, making you yell out in pain.

The next break between contractions you release the ladder and scramble to get your shoulders and arms out of your suit. You manage to peel yourself out of the leather until it’s hanging from your waist, still sticking tightly to your but and crotch area. As the pain returns, you curse yourself for choosing leather over spandex, breath deep and push.

With the leather no longer sticking to your shoulders, there seems to be a bit more give, as the head moves down more. It stops before it’s completely out, the baby’s body feeling huge in your birth canal as it kicks and squirms, as desperate to be born as you are to give birth. You squat down, hands on your knees, but spreading your legs only pulls the suit tighter over your crotch. You growl, the pressure and burning in your body building as the contraction and you frantically fight against your clothes.

Once again the contraction releases and you strain to get your suit past your hips. With the baby’s head between your legs it’s a tight fit to say the least. You get it halfway past your hips before it stops. You realize that you can’t remove the suit with your legs spread, so you straighten up a bit and try to close them. Almost immediately you can feel the head touching your tighs, lie there’s a soccer ball between your legs. You shove on the suit, pressing your legs as close together as the head will let them. In this position you’re interrupted by another contraction.

The urge to spread your legs and push is completely irresistible. You try, but your legs are locked in position by that damned suit. The head pushes against your tighs and you have to grip the ladder again, as to not fall over. You feel tears slip beneath your mask and run down your cheeks as you scream and scream, completely losing it. The pain is everywhere, the pressure and desperation so extremely inescapable, and you beg for anyone to help you. Anyone at all. Hell, you would even welcome the bad guy you where chasing, with open arms. There’s nothing in this world you want as much as to give birth right now.

As the contraction slowly releases, you waste no time in shoving your suit down to your ankles. Ignoring your shoes and how your feet are still stuck in the sweaty leather, you squat down, knees pointing outwards, and barely waiting for another contraction, you push. The baby’s head pops out almost ridiculously easy, after all the previous struggling. You let your hands run over the sticky hair and the tiny ears. The head is massive in your hands, and as it turns to face your leg, the shoulders grinding inside your birth canal, pressing against your opening, you realize how truly big your baby is. Compared to your relatively petite frame, the baby halfway out of you is enormous.

You push hard as a final contraction grips you, and catch the baby as its body finally slides out of yours. Your knees hit the ground as you bring it up to your naked chest. You’re thankful for your naturally high body temperature, as you cling to your crying son, both of you naked. As the night breeze cools your sweaty body, you briefly glance up with a shiver. Your city stretches out before you, as asleep as a city ever is, and you return your gazed to your long awaited son. You realize that in this moment you can see your entire world from this rooftop.