April 25, 2020, 10:27 pm by Natas1889 (253)
I do happen to have it.
Prison Mother
I was surrounded by the thick scent of body fluids. Sweat, blood, and amniotic fluid. It was as if an invisible force was constricting my abdomen, squeezing my insides as they churned and shifted. A loud shriek of agony erupted to my right.
It was not uncommon for cell mates to go into labor at the same time.
I was resting on the bed, watching Carole as she restlessly clawed at the floor, howling in pain and rubbing her belly and begging for someone to show her mercy. But no one came, not for a while. Our ‘neighbors’ were beginning to make noises of their own, aroused by the state Carole was in. The sounds of their heavy lust and orgasm echoed quietly, as they hushed themselves, as if their panting and moaning would ever pollute the wondrous noises that poor Carole was making. I myself was gently rubbing my labia, breathing heavily as I tried to keep focus on the pleasure instead of the pain.
It began to appear, after a bit. My attention was drawn back to her, as she hunched over her bed, knees shaking as she sat on them, thighs rippling with her tremors as the baby’s head began to emerge. The screams became deafening. The sounds of the other cellmates’ lust began to rise in unison, and Carole cursed the women for being so filthy and perverted. She shot me a rage-filled glare when my own panting increased, and I felt my hair stand excitedly at her acknowledging my presence. Closer, so close, just a little more... push, Carole, push, let it stretch your body open...
“Prisoner Number 0239,” the guard announced, as the head spurted forward in a brief acceleration of its birth before slowing again, leaving Carole in tears. She began to beg for the guard’s help. He neglected her, staring at me. “Report to the birthing chambers. Your clients have arrived.”
“I will be there shortly,” I responded after a careful inhale, slipping my finger inside of myself. The baby’s head had not yet descended, but my vagina was starting to spread on its own, preparing for the descent. “Within five minutes,” I added. Surely, enough time for Carole to give birth. The guard left, and I slowly escaped my bed, resting at my cell mate’s side. Gently, teasingly, running my fingers down her spine, I felt her shudder, causing a brief break in her sobbing. “You’ll have to do this every time until it feels good, you know,” I breathed, sticking my finger between her lips and tracing around the baby’s head. My own vagina clenched at the thought.
“It... it hurts...! How could it ever... g-get your fingers out...” she whimpered, beginning to shake, threatening to collapse on top of her vulnerable belly. I gently steadied her hips with my hands, reaching again between her legs and rubbing her clitoris. “A--ahhnn...” she moaned and mewled, immediately distracted. I laughed.
“See... they picked you for a reason. Touch yourself, here...” I took her hand, coaxing her to masturbate. She picked up no problem, groaning and forgetting about pushing entirely. And so, the baby’s head descended. Her moaning stopped as she wailed - the head was stretching the labia. The ring of fire. “Don’t stop,” I scolded, and she immediately and furiously kept rubbing her clit, “Or it will hurt. Keep rubbing, let it stretch you... let it feel good.” The howls became more enthused, and the orgasms of the women in other cells became almost deaf to my ears. Carole began howling for God, finally out of ecstasy instead of pain. The head suddenly popped out of her vagina like a pea being squeezed from the pod, and I could not resist. I moved my fingers to keep her stretched, wiggling mercilessly as the shoulders were pushed out not by a contraction, or by Carole’s force, but by her fierce orgasm. The baby was in my hands for all of a second before she hastily grabbed it, crying and thrusting her hips as she rode the rest of the orgasm.
Good... now I would get a new cell mate.
I stood, carefully, wincing a bit at the following contraction, before going into the birthing room. The padded room... once reserved for the insane that were dangerous to themselves, it was a way for prisoners to give birth for their clients. I looked through the window, spying the married couple that had ‘donated’ to me. I got onto hands and knees, moaning and panting, making my tongue hang out in excitement. The lovely couple blushed, furiously, before the guard gently encouraged them to enjoy themselves.
I was a performer, after all. I was the master of what I had been teaching Carole. Human fertility had dropped radically, and the miracle of birth was since realized to be a very sensual and privileged one. It was sad... that lovely couple would never experience the child they conceived coming from the mother’s loins. They had to settle for me. Their genes were fine... combined in a lab, and then placed in me, for me to surrogate. I made good money off of that. But what made even more money was giving birth erotically. I got so good at it that I could refuse the presence of a doctor until the baby was out of my body entirely. The best. These clients of mine... were economic royalty. Not as successful as the likes of Bill Gates, but still remarkably famous.
And though they had been embarrassed at the thought of watching me give birth to their child, much less erotically, they soon embraced it, and were eager to consummate as they watched. I rubbed my belly, trying to soothe the ache in my womb. I was giving birth to ‘triplets’, after all, as they requested two sons and a daughter for their ‘throne’. What a scandal, I pondered, that two of society’s most accepted and beloved people were unable to give birth on their own accord. She was apparently so barren that even extensive surgery could not suit her body for birth. That’s what happens, after all, when your society begins to prefer women with smaller hips, and tall, lanky bodies. That’s what happens when you create a scenario where women can synthetically change themselves to look better, instead of natural selection kicking in and allowing the naturally healthy women to breed. It is no one’s fault... everyone deserves love.
This is just the unfortunate outcome. With the average woman completely unable to give birth, surrogacy became the norm. But smart girls don’t want to give birth to babies they can’t keep. There are the blessed few, but most refuse. Adoption centers are, luckily, much slimmer now, but that could not satisfy society’s demands for children. There’s nothing like raising a child with your hair and your spouse’s eyes, after all. To solve this, prisoners became surrogates.
Not necessarily of our own will, at first. Our initial introduction to the surrogacy project - which has some ridiculous code name that the guards whisper to one another - was such a violation of moral and constitutional rights that it was done entirely in secret. But once a way was developed by one of those early women to enjoy the sensual experience of giving birth... well. We are still highly under the table, but we’re whispered about in the news. Fertility science has expanded quite a bit, if the children kicking at my womb and the swollen but empty belly of my client was any indication. Feigning pregnancy is important, after all. What I do is still considerably illegal.
A particularly strong contraction draws me away from my drifting thoughts, and I let out a loud groan, arching my back so I could wear a pained expression without destroying the sensual air of it. I rested my hands on my shoulders, letting out a loud moan as I rubbed them down to my breasts, giving them a massage. I could see the male client becoming excited, and gently encouraging his wife to let him do the same for her, I grinned, pulling and teasing at my nipples, letting the tone of my moans and gasps escalate into a more sexually excited sound. Looking her straight in the eyes, I can only smirk as I see her turn crimson, starting to breathe heavily. I stroke and rub, watching as the man mimics my motions until milk spurts out of my breasts. Seeing the client follow soon after with her own milk spurt, I giggled, lifting my left breast and licking the milk that had spilled onto it, very satisfied with how shocked and appalled the woman looked. She was enjoying it - she just didn’t know how to let herself enjoy it. It’s enough of a distraction from my own contractions, for a while, but as another very strong contraction hits I arch my back again, pressing my hands against my breasts to get one more spurt of milk before sliding them down over my belly, then down my thighs.
I turn a little, repeating the motion, reaching my hands between my legs and bending over to flash my pussy, which is pulsing red. The guy has reached into his pants, and the wife is considering aiding him. And finally, at that point, I feel it begin. I was unable to fight the urge to scream, but made the most of it, throwing my head back and arching my back so that I could let out the agonized howl that needed to erupt from my chest. The head was pressing the cervix, and it had caught me off guard. Hastily, I moved to assist myself, rubbing my labia feverishly, glancing over my shoulder to see the wife stroking her husband as he took my glance as the cue to reach under her panties, rubbing her belly affectionately. Their eyes locked on me, naturally, I put up my best performance - moaning, groaning, and beginning to mewl about it starting to descend.
“It’s coming...” I moaned, watching the spike in their excitement, both emotional and physical, “Oh, ooooh it’s going to come soon... come, little one, I can feel you...”
It was a typical service to offer the clients. They can’t see into the birth canal behind the window, so announcing where the baby was until it began to crown was crucial. I steadied my breath, focusing on slowly spreading my legs and keeping my balance. It was difficult - once the baby began to descend, it was as if my legs were locked in place. I never did ask if it was common for other women to be so frightened to move - I noticed that some women could shift while they gave birth, but they were usually in need of being coaxed to sit still so the baby wouldn’t be harmed.
I notice the spurt of cum from the man, and keep my grin a mild smile. Already, huh? There’s so much more of the birth ahead of you, you know. I pant, heavily, exaggerating the heaving of my shoulders and rubbing my belly. It wasn’t entirely for show - the circles I was rubbing onto my swollen belly were very comforting, and kept me calm as the baby began to twist in my passage. I let out a loud moan, panting and sticking my tongue out like a dog to cool my throat.
“Oh... oh come now...! It’s twisting... it’s twisting inside my vagina!”
The look on the wife’s face was priceless. Her skin became so red that no matter where I looked, it was as if I were looking at a lobster. I repeated my statement as the baby twisted again, rubbing my clit furiously before I gently stuck a finger inside, stretching myself. The man was pumping himself furiously, and the woman was now completely unable to avoid touching herself, also rubbing her belly in a mimic of my gestures. I wondered if she felt the same warmth and safety when she did it...
Ah, there it was. The crowning was finally beginning to start, and I could smell the blood. It was expected, of course, but that probably didn’t stop the mortification from the wife. So I shifted from a somewhat upright position to resting on my elbows and knees, showing them the head as it started to peak.
“Aaah!! Ah, there, there it is...!! It’s coming!” I howled, gently thrusting my hips down to aid in pushing, letting the contractions do most of the work rather than exhausting myself. And not pushing held another advantage - it gave me the chance to focus on making it feel good. I could fake arousal, but an orgasm during birth is something that needed to happen. So despite my mewling and moaning and shouting in excitement, I took breaks in between howls to breathe strong, certain breaths, calming myself and focusing on the sensation of being stretched, wider and wider... the feeling of the baby’s twist, feeling its head prying my entrance open slowly, ever so slowly...
I had thought that, like most others, the wife would have lost the sexual drive when the crowning occurred, but a glimpse back showed that she was masturbating even more furiously, mouth wide and open as she began howling, herself. Encouraging me, coaxing me, coaching me... ‘it’s coming out, it’s so close... you can do it, push it out, push it out...!!’ Touched by seeing what words were on her lips, I thrust my hips down, giving the baby a good push. I felt the gush of blood and fluids, and gasped at the sudden acceleration of movement from the baby. Ooooh, that felt so good...!! I was reluctant to push, shuddering from the absolute butter zone of pleasure that the baby was currently putting me in. Stretched just enough to be overwhelming, but not enough to hurt more than it felt good. But the contractions rejected my desires, and the baby kept coming. I felt the brow of the baby emerge, then the ear flop clumsily out of my vagina... a simple ‘pop’ sort of feeling as the baby’s head emerged, wriggling a little tiny bit against my ass cheeks. I panted, waiting for the contractions to get the shoulders through my opening.
It was then that I heard the muffled sound of the wife orgasming, shouting ‘push it out! Push it out, push it out!!’ I would have turned to look, but I was paralyzed - trapped in the mindset of giving birth. I could not split my focus if I tried, not when I could feel every inch of the baby’s details against my burning insides. The contraction pushed the baby, one shoulder starting to slowly slide out, and I bore down, the movement agonizingly slow until the shoulder was clear, and the baby nearly erupted from my passage, spilling onto the soft floor. It sputtered, and coughed, and started its wet, soggy cries of shock at leaving my warm womb for the cold air. A nurse quickly entered the room, cutting the umbilical cord and removing the baby as I thrust downwards again and again, trying to accomplish my unfulfilled orgasm.
Eventually, the arousal faded into the throbbing, aching pain of my overly stretched vagina, and panting heavily, trying to ignore the scent of the birth, I slowly rolled over onto my side, resting. Contractions had slowed a bit, though they had not yet stopped - there were two more babies to deliver, after all. As I rested, I glimpsed over at the married couple, who were excitedly tending to their new baby. They were still recovering from their own arousal, it seemed, with the man still having a growing erection and the woman shifting uncomfortably.
The nurse approached them, no doubt making new offers for them. I saw them discuss for about five minutes before the nurse gestured to me. There was only a little more discussion before the man stood, following the nurse.
I knew exactly what that meant. I slowly sat up, waiting. And sure enough, into the room he came, his erection back in full. I smiled, shifting my legs to rub them together, watching the man swallow thickly. He had paid to spend the next birth with me. And I was to provide my services.
“Did you like it?” I asked, licking my lips, “Did you like seeing your baby pushing out of my body, ever so slowly, stretching my body open...?”
“G-geez,” he muttered awkwardly, before kneeling down when I gestured him to sit. “You can’t tell me that felt good.”
“Oh, but I can,” I replied, shifting my legs and reaching down, spreading my pussy wide. He gulped, staring into my throbbing insides. “It hurts, but it feels good... do you think you can make it feel better than that?” He hesitated only for a second, glancing at his wife, who gave him a little smile and a nod. Ah, then she was going to be in here for the last one. He turned his gaze back to me, moving to top me. I quickly shifted onto hands and knees, waiting for him. Another second of hesitance, before he slipped himself inside. I could hear him audibly gaping at just how loose I was, and I grinned, leaning back and making him sit down, using my thighs to shift up and down his shaft. I was grateful he hadn’t chosen my ass - though most other prisoners hated men fucking them normally immediately after birth, I relished in the pleasant burn I got from their lengths rubbing the torn walls of my birth canal.
“S-shit, you’re bleeding...” he cursed, and I could only laugh as I bounced a little more vigorously, causing him to grunt.
“I just gave birth,” I replied, “I’m torn and I’ll start to swell... but it feels so good... we don’t have much time before the next one comes. We have to do this quickly...” He seemed to understand the urgency, and began thrusting into me, causing my belly to heave, a bit like jello. I reached behind me, taking his hands and making him hold my belly still, steadying myself by holding onto his arms. Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust... he wanted to increase the speed, but I kept myself consistent, paying close attention to what my labor was doing. Of course, I allowed myself to moan, relishing in the warmth of the man’s body against mine, and the oddly arousing comfort in his hold on my belly, and we continued. Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust... the pattern that only somewhat increased, steadily, slowly, until he orgasmed inside of me. I would have laughed at the timing, but the baby’s head decided to begin its descent, and I heard him gasp. I glanced over my shoulder, seeing his wide-eyed stare. Ah, he felt it. I shifted, but he held me in place. “Ah...? The baby is...”
“I know, I... I want to feel it...” he said. It was surprising - I had never considered that sort of thing before. But I could only laugh.
“You can’t stay inside. The baby won’t come out,” I told him, trying again to move. He held me a little more firmly, and I stopped, not wanting to harm the precious investment. He rested his head on my shoulder, inhaling my scent.
“I’ll move as it comes out,” he said. I grabbed his arm and spoke with more sternness.
“You can’t thrust inside of me. The head is soft--”
“I won’t thrust...” he whispered, huskily. He was desperate, that much was clear... and before I could argue further, I moaned, feeling the second head emerging from the womb. True to his word, the client did not move, instead gently rubbing the head with the tip of his cock. It was welcoming, to have such courtesy, but it was still nerve-wracking. I held myself as still and upright as possible, keeping my breathing steady. At about the halfway point, although the man had not so much as twitched his hips, he came inside of me, and retreated. And not a moment too soon, as the baby’s head was rapidly descending. I dropped back to hands and knees, reaching to touch my clit as my lips began to swell outwards. “T-the baby...” the father moaned, fighting his grogginess. I sighed and moaned loudly, blinking the whiteness out of my vision as I furiously rubbed my clit, relishing in the feeling of the baby’s head parting my lips. I jumped a bit at feeling the father’s hands on my labia, frowning at him touching, but a jump in movement from the baby sent me reeling into the orgasm I had been waiting for.
“Oooooooaaah!!” I howled, noticing vaguely that he was rubbing my clit for me. I heard the now distant sound of a spurt, then a splash, feeling the sudden removal of what was blocking my orgasm and hearing the faint echoes of the infant’s crying. The man kept rubbing me, drawing it out as long as he could, until I finally collapsed, carefully dropping on my side. I suppose I fell asleep - I woke again when I felt the final infant’s head pressing my cervix, and saw the wife looming over me. She had moved me, so that my head was resting in her lap.
“Ah, you’re awake...”
“The... next one is coming,” I panted, rubbing my forehead. It had been unprofessional of me to fall asleep, if even for a moment. “I need to...”
“Don’t worry,” she said, stroking my hair out of my face. The kindness stunned me, for a moment. As I opened my mouth to insist, she laughed, a bit. “It’s okay. I would rather you do it as naturally as you need to. If it hurts... it should hurt.”
I was stunned. I’d never heard that before at all - it was only beneficial if it felt good. Then you would want to do it. And yet... somehow, it was comforting, to be told such things. To have one’s hair stroked. The touch of a hand rubbing my belly startled me, but when I looked, it was only the father, who was offering the same kind smile. I reclined my head, stunned for a bit, until I felt the baby’s head begin to descend. Then I laughed.
“That’s very kind... but it has to feel good,” I replied, in a very quiet voice. “Otherwise... I will just break. I’ll never be able to do it, if it doesn’t feel good.”
“What do you mean?” the woman asked, clearly perplexed.
“If it hurts... then...” I trailed off. How could I explain such a thing? They had no concept, no comprehension of what life was like in this prison. Pain... it was the reminder that the place WAS a prison. The pleasure we felt... it was a distraction. It made us forget. “If it hurts, then I... then I might as well be dea-- ughn...!”
Before I could even twitch my hand, the man began rubbing my nethers, leaving me panting. The sweet, blissful pleasure... I could almost lose myself again. Were it not for the woman’s gentle touches on my face, that made my heart swell in some emotion I rarely felt. I didn’t moan, or scream, or vocalize much at all. Not having to perform... instead, all I did was gasp, pant, and wince, feeling the baby as it descended at its own pace, its path made easier by the stretching the other two babies did for it. I arched my back, trying to dismiss the comfort I felt in the woman dabbing the sweat off of my forehead, focusing on the feeling of the baby’s head emerging, before my vision faded into another orgasm. I felt a comforting warmth, a hug, a kiss on the cheek. From the man, or the woman, I couldn’t tell.
All I knew was that as I faded back out, I had never felt more hollow and empty.
Of course, as is the case with my institution, I was hired to carry another couple’s offspring to term, and I silently accepted my task. My belly was taut again, just as before, carrying only two this time around. But despite the fullness I had in my womb, I felt empty, and alone.
Just as I had when I first came here.
