Hey all!
It's been a second since I've uploaded anything and I feel like if there is any month that feels most appropriate to upload it's may for Maternity. This story follows the worker from 'Rent-a'Mommy' on her final act: Giving birth on stage. I feel like there can never be enough pregnant strippers and I wanted to give my take.
Like always, I have posted a snippit as to lot flood the forum with a 7 page story, but you can read the rest for free on Deviantart right here:
https://www.deviantart.com/realisticpreg...-917887741
I hope you guys enjoy!
Their limousine parked in the middle of the street between two cars in the driveway. Rain continued to splatter heavily onto the concrete. A few men in black cladded with bluetooths and sunglasses emerged from the side door of what looked like a cafe well past its closing time with a suspicious amount of parking on the same street. Rolling down the tinted windows the guards caught a glimpse of Frida shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“ID?” they asked the party in the middle of the car. The manager of the two presented them while Frida’s leg bounced with anxiety. “Performer, plus one assistant.” Ren said, pointing to Frida then himself.
The bouncers raised their sunglasses, analyzing Frida from the open window of the limousine. “She’s a performer?” they asked, warranted by the loose beige trench coat Frida used to conceal her body in the rain.
“VIP,” The manager leaned and checked the street. “She’s delivering.”
“She even expecting?” The bouncers asked.
Annoyed, Frida lifted her top up over her stomach, revealing to them the round bump of her full term belly. “I’m ready to pop, boys. You’d best get me on stage before this becomes a private delivery.”. The child within her shared that sentiment, rippling a kick across her stretched skin.
The bouncers raised their sunglasses, turned around and emerged with a wheelchair.
“Oh please…” she muttered. Opening the door, she began to make her entrance into the venue with Ren following quickly behind. On already trembling legs she took one shaky step in the rain before a pain twung quickly on the side her leg landed. Her upper body followed the pain down as she keeled forward, grasping onto the roof of the limo for support. “Guuuuuuuuggghhhhhh–” she groaned, her hair and attire getting wet with the extended period in the rain.
“Take it easy, Frida.” Ren said, coming to her aid and assisting her into her wheelchair. Though thoroughly patronized, she could accept that she needed all of the help she could receive even if childbirth was as hard as these pre-active labor contractions.
Though she sulked, Frida accepted her coworkers' help and followed the guards into the side door. As the elevator descended the iron shaft cleared into a glass one, the concrete became a vast open space. A nightclub.
Ambient pink light surrounded the room, all places but the stage that had a typical spotlight. Behind it was a large billboard with the name of the venue spelled in large neon letters. ‘The Maternity Ward’.
As Frida was escorted into the back rooms while still in her wheelchair, professional looking people in dress attire and clipboards followed the duo into their dressing room.
“I’m sure you’ve already been debriefed, but a lot of these guys are foreigners working with that stock company in the big city. And a lot of them have-uhm, local preferences in addition to their pregnancy fixation.” They said as the designers began placing curlers into Frida’s silky locks
While the professional language helped in the business setting, Frida found her brow twitching in the circumstances of her labor. Inside of her cloudied, warm head she felt her head screaming “Just say it in english, jackass.”
“Yes, I have received the guidelines. And although I have practiced, has this been reviewed? It does seem a little…”
“Humiliating ?”
“Over the top?”
“An absolute joke?” All conjured in Frida’s mind.
“Excessive?” is the word that left her mouth. These agents shook their heads and looked down at a clipboard.
“The surveys were conducted well in advance, the algorithm is seldom incorrect, as you have experience with yourself.”
“Right, you’ve been punching down lately.” Ren chimed in.
“Be quiet and help me up.”
He was right, afterall. Frida had been coasting to an easy retirement since she agreed to sell her birth, taking off escorting jobs, selling pictures of her figure, even as a rental mother to target young, horny men. There was one daunting task at the end of her contract, her last performance to set her up for life. To give birth in front of an audience.
The dressers fitted Frida in a small bra patterned in the stars and stripes of red, white, and blue and a thong to match. As to double down on patriotism she was fit in brown leather heels that came up to her knees and a cowboy hat. She looked as ridiculous as she did stunning.
While posed in the mirror, Frida’s eyes shot open again. “Ahhhng!” She groaned as her hands fell to her stomach.
The large backstage crew came to surround her, they were warded off by her younger coworker, spreading his arms behind her. “Space! You don’t want to stress out a lady who is about to give birth, right?” The two shot each other glances, and Frida nodded.
As the make up came in Ren pulled up a stopwatch on his phone reading 8 minutes.
“We got here just in time.” Frida said with relief. “Thank goodness.” Ren winked, allowing her to rest a little between contractions.
Before long a line of heavily pregnant belly dancers made their way back behind the curtains, all passing by Frida and glancing down to her stomach, almost as if to say “Good luck”. Ren offered his hands in support to lift the actively laboring mother up from the cold folding chair in front of the mirror. With a deep breath, Frida took his hands and pushed off with her trembling legs. She ended precariously balanced.
Taking wide steps with the balls of her feet barely leaving the ground she waited at the edge of the curtain with her hands on her knees. She panted heavily, sucking in the air backstage while her exhausted body begged to stay stationary and give birth.
“Is she okay?” one of the designers asked as Frida stalled by the entrance.
“Of course.” Ren chimed in with reassurance. “She’s a professional, after all.”
Frida sucked air in one more time, straightened her posture, then flung the curtains to the stage behind her.
It's been a second since I've uploaded anything and I feel like if there is any month that feels most appropriate to upload it's may for Maternity. This story follows the worker from 'Rent-a'Mommy' on her final act: Giving birth on stage. I feel like there can never be enough pregnant strippers and I wanted to give my take.
Like always, I have posted a snippit as to lot flood the forum with a 7 page story, but you can read the rest for free on Deviantart right here:
https://www.deviantart.com/realisticpreg...-917887741
I hope you guys enjoy!
Their limousine parked in the middle of the street between two cars in the driveway. Rain continued to splatter heavily onto the concrete. A few men in black cladded with bluetooths and sunglasses emerged from the side door of what looked like a cafe well past its closing time with a suspicious amount of parking on the same street. Rolling down the tinted windows the guards caught a glimpse of Frida shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
“ID?” they asked the party in the middle of the car. The manager of the two presented them while Frida’s leg bounced with anxiety. “Performer, plus one assistant.” Ren said, pointing to Frida then himself.
The bouncers raised their sunglasses, analyzing Frida from the open window of the limousine. “She’s a performer?” they asked, warranted by the loose beige trench coat Frida used to conceal her body in the rain.
“VIP,” The manager leaned and checked the street. “She’s delivering.”
“She even expecting?” The bouncers asked.
Annoyed, Frida lifted her top up over her stomach, revealing to them the round bump of her full term belly. “I’m ready to pop, boys. You’d best get me on stage before this becomes a private delivery.”. The child within her shared that sentiment, rippling a kick across her stretched skin.
The bouncers raised their sunglasses, turned around and emerged with a wheelchair.
“Oh please…” she muttered. Opening the door, she began to make her entrance into the venue with Ren following quickly behind. On already trembling legs she took one shaky step in the rain before a pain twung quickly on the side her leg landed. Her upper body followed the pain down as she keeled forward, grasping onto the roof of the limo for support. “Guuuuuuuuggghhhhhh–” she groaned, her hair and attire getting wet with the extended period in the rain.
“Take it easy, Frida.” Ren said, coming to her aid and assisting her into her wheelchair. Though thoroughly patronized, she could accept that she needed all of the help she could receive even if childbirth was as hard as these pre-active labor contractions.
Though she sulked, Frida accepted her coworkers' help and followed the guards into the side door. As the elevator descended the iron shaft cleared into a glass one, the concrete became a vast open space. A nightclub.
Ambient pink light surrounded the room, all places but the stage that had a typical spotlight. Behind it was a large billboard with the name of the venue spelled in large neon letters. ‘The Maternity Ward’.
As Frida was escorted into the back rooms while still in her wheelchair, professional looking people in dress attire and clipboards followed the duo into their dressing room.
“I’m sure you’ve already been debriefed, but a lot of these guys are foreigners working with that stock company in the big city. And a lot of them have-uhm, local preferences in addition to their pregnancy fixation.” They said as the designers began placing curlers into Frida’s silky locks
While the professional language helped in the business setting, Frida found her brow twitching in the circumstances of her labor. Inside of her cloudied, warm head she felt her head screaming “Just say it in english, jackass.”
“Yes, I have received the guidelines. And although I have practiced, has this been reviewed? It does seem a little…”
“Humiliating ?”
“Over the top?”
“An absolute joke?” All conjured in Frida’s mind.
“Excessive?” is the word that left her mouth. These agents shook their heads and looked down at a clipboard.
“The surveys were conducted well in advance, the algorithm is seldom incorrect, as you have experience with yourself.”
“Right, you’ve been punching down lately.” Ren chimed in.
“Be quiet and help me up.”
He was right, afterall. Frida had been coasting to an easy retirement since she agreed to sell her birth, taking off escorting jobs, selling pictures of her figure, even as a rental mother to target young, horny men. There was one daunting task at the end of her contract, her last performance to set her up for life. To give birth in front of an audience.
The dressers fitted Frida in a small bra patterned in the stars and stripes of red, white, and blue and a thong to match. As to double down on patriotism she was fit in brown leather heels that came up to her knees and a cowboy hat. She looked as ridiculous as she did stunning.
While posed in the mirror, Frida’s eyes shot open again. “Ahhhng!” She groaned as her hands fell to her stomach.
The large backstage crew came to surround her, they were warded off by her younger coworker, spreading his arms behind her. “Space! You don’t want to stress out a lady who is about to give birth, right?” The two shot each other glances, and Frida nodded.
As the make up came in Ren pulled up a stopwatch on his phone reading 8 minutes.
“We got here just in time.” Frida said with relief. “Thank goodness.” Ren winked, allowing her to rest a little between contractions.
Before long a line of heavily pregnant belly dancers made their way back behind the curtains, all passing by Frida and glancing down to her stomach, almost as if to say “Good luck”. Ren offered his hands in support to lift the actively laboring mother up from the cold folding chair in front of the mirror. With a deep breath, Frida took his hands and pushed off with her trembling legs. She ended precariously balanced.
Taking wide steps with the balls of her feet barely leaving the ground she waited at the edge of the curtain with her hands on her knees. She panted heavily, sucking in the air backstage while her exhausted body begged to stay stationary and give birth.
“Is she okay?” one of the designers asked as Frida stalled by the entrance.
“Of course.” Ren chimed in with reassurance. “She’s a professional, after all.”
Frida sucked air in one more time, straightened her posture, then flung the curtains to the stage behind her.
