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push-harderr · 10 days ago

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As its mothers day in the UK, I couldn't let the day go without a story of someone becoming a mother. So here's one I saved up from a while ago from a roleplay I did with @allkindsofpreg. Hope you enjoy it.

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Some people would call it… unconventional, but it’s just the way we are. My phone is streaming birth videos to the tv, one after another. You give a little grunt. I look over and you give me a weary smile. We started our video marathon four hours ago after the third hour of contractions, both of us confident that this was the real deal. We had watched countless babies being born and right at this moment you were sitting on a towel, your trousers and underwear discarded, your fingers rubbing tight little circles on your clit as we watched the mother pull her legs back. You pull your top up and expose your belly, the fabric scrunching up under your breasts. I lean over and wrap my arm over your shoulder, my other hand reaching down to follow the route of your fingers. Your head lolls back as you sigh, the contraction finally passing.

“They make it look so quick,” you grumble, leaning heavily against the headboard as another head crowns and pops free on the tv.

I chuckle and move my hand to cup your firm stomach. “Movie magic, love,” I assure you. “We can edit ours to look that way too if you want.” The idea of going back later and rewatching the birth of our child together sends a shiver of excitement through us both. “Could maybe speed things up though.” My hand moves up to brush your nipple and you arch into my touch.

With some assistance, you get your legs folded underneath your ass and get to your knees. I follow. Your belly presses into mine and you loop your arms around my neck. Our lips find each other and my other hand reaches between your legs, the long, lazy strokes causing you to pant and moan along with the woman on the screen.

You don’t pull away as your core begins to tighten, just move to rest your head on my shoulder. Your hips sway in time with my movements until you're practically riding my fingers. I can feel when you stiffen, and gently nudge you back into rhythm. “Keep it loose. Just relax and let the baby move down on its own.”

“So heavy,” you mumble against my skin, and my grip moves to lift your belly. The relief is instant, gravity no longer pulling constantly at the small of your back, and you pull tighter against me. “Thank you.” you hum in acknowledgement, but it’s soon drowned out by your string of curses as the contraction crests.

“Fuck, shit, ow, ow ow ow.” You sink lower and lean forward, hips widening and belly lowering to rest on the bed. From here it’s easy to see how much I'm enjoying this, and you almost laugh when my hard cock twitches in response to your panted breaths.

“Done?” I ask, eyes questioning as you straighten up with a smile.

“It’s only just beginning my love.” A particularly wild scream draws our attention back to the playlist and your hand instinctively searches your own opening as the woman struggles against a massive bulge. “Check me,” you plead, desperate for some sense of fullness as you wait to be where she is. My palm cups your pussy, and all you want to do in that moment is fill it with the head of our child.

I move to get behind you, as you shuffle your elbows forward and hitch up your ass to give me better access. “I’d better remember this position for next time, seems like a perfect height for my hips…”

You turn your head, blowing out a breath in turn as you grunt “don’t think about next time… right now I’m thinking this time”

“I know baby you’re doing really well” I say automatically in response, all the while my fingers were cupping your opening. You grunt an acknowledgement and prompt me with “you were checking” as I giggle “yes dear!”

You suck in your breath as you feel my fingers slip in and probe deeper, feeling around. “You’re… you’re doing very well baby.” My obvious skirting around the number and tone has you picking up on it. “How much?” You gasp, puffing out the breath you were holding.

I try and sound cheerful “you’re at 6, almost there” I say. We both know you were at 5cm 2 hours ago and hadn’t really progressed.

You grunted a ‘damn’ as you elbow walked back and with my help got you back upright.

I glanced over to the four cameras we had placed over the room to record things, all were still blinking their lights showing they were still recording.

“Do you need to do anything with those?” You ask, pushing your top back above your bump and rubbing circles against the skin.

“No, not yet, they can do 6 hours each on the cards. If needs be and we get to 5 hours I’ll make sure I swap them over before anything spicy happens”

We started recording when we set the movie marathon away 3 hours ago.

“So speaking of spicy” you say coyly… “it sounds like we need to get things moving.”

I smile and run my hands down the length of your thighs. “You just want me for my sperm,” I tease. We’d read that it could help soften the cervix, and you’re desperate for anything that might speed things up.

“Mm,” You hum unapologetically and crane your neck back to look at me. “Kind of how I got into this mess in the first place, yeah?”

I lean forward and capture your lips in a kiss, then gently lower you down so you’re lying down on the bed facing away from me. Grabbing a bunch of pillows to nest and wedge around your awkward aching body, we manage to get your belly supported and knee propped forward and up enough to give me adequate access from behind. I wrap my body around yours, kissing down your neck and shoulder as my hand caresses down your curves, inching lower and lower until it finds your clit. I start torturously slow, effectively distracting you through several more contractions.

“I’m close,” You warn, and I nip playfully at your skin to keep you from tumbling over the edge just yet even as my fingers move rougher, faster. You whine in protest when I stop, but the stimulation quickly reappears at your opening. I drag my stiff cock up and down between your folds and you're already so wet it doesn’t take much before I’m prodding, pushing, thrusting.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan as I bury myself deep inside you. Your ability to move is limited, so you’re at my mercy as I slide in and out, in and out, adjusting the angle slightly each time until I find the one that makes you gasp and shiver and beg, “Please. Please.”

“Please what?”

You can only whimper as your own fingers find your clit. Another contraction is building and you know I can feel it too as I struggle to hold back from release as your internal muscles clench and spasm around me. My pace quickens and my arm wraps around your belly, giving me a bit of leverage to hit just a little bit deeper and sending us both over the edge.

The pleasurable muscular contractions from the orgasm mingle with the painful ones from labour, heightening both sensations and causing you to cry out. You intertwine your fingers with the ones I have moulded to the curve of your stomach and pant harshly until the vice loosens. There’s a new persistent twinge in your back and your other arm is beginning to go numb.

“Maybe you should stand for a bit - help the baby move down some?” you manage, panting from the exertion all the while.

I give you help to get up, your “oooh” of appreciation towards letting you straighten your back echoing in my ears. We position ourselves face to face, your arms wrapped around my shoulders loosely and my hands holding either side of your bump as we begin to sway with each other, the next contraction building. We rest forehead to forehead as I whisper to you “keep it going you’re doing great”. You don’t respond straight away, focusing on the pain until it finally releases, and you blow out a breath. Then, with a grin, you tilt your head back and look me in the eye as you say “you’re running down my inner thigh.”

We both burst into giggles as I rub my knee up and down your inner leg, moving it side to side to separate your knees, sure enough I feel the wet sloppiness against my skin.

“Will just have to break your waters and wash it all away” I reply.

“Don’t you dare, this baby comes when this baby comes” you groan as the next contraction picks up. Just before you go inward and focus on the contraction you whisper “though I think it might come pretty soon.”

We dance around in circles for the duration of the contraction, my eyes checking back on the tv screen. The lady on there is squatting down pushing hard, not making a sound other than occasional grunts as she pushes. “Staying upright seems to work for her, perhaps we should give it a go.”

It’s harder than you expect to stay on your feet, the full weight of gravity adding to the strain and pressure in your back, hips and legs. But I'm always there to support you and the freedom to pace and sway and bend and squat is easily worth the effort.

You lean forward, pressing your palms into the edge of the dresser as another contraction begins to build. I come up behind and trace my fingers up your sides to cup your breasts. I give them a gentle massage and the pain ratchets up a few notches in response. It takes your breath away in a high pitched moan and your legs widen out of instinct, though it does little to alleviate the mounting pressure.

“It feels like I’m about to pop,” you manage to make out with a little bounce and sway, as if that might have any effect on your waters. “Come on, baby, I know you must be ready to come out.” The only response was a sharpening of pain that had you doubled completely over.

“Hey, remember the woman on the tv,” I whisper, a gentle suggestion.

You turn your head and again am faced with the mother in a deep squat struggling hard against her child’s large head. You nod, and I help lower you so that your ass is almost to the floor. Your knees flare out to the side, your hard stomach rounding out between them like a huge bowling ball. You ride out the rest of the contraction this way before returning your eyes to the screen.

“Pretty soon there will be a head between these legs,” you say, your hand reaching back to search for mine.

I find it and kiss your cheek. “Very soon, my love,” I assure you as I help you back to your feet.

You turn to look into my eyes - they are a mixture of excitement and adoration and lust. You take one of my hands and position it between your legs. “Here is where the head of the child we made together will be. My legs wide open for you, just like they were on the night of conception, skin bulging into a tight dome, hole burning and stretching, being born right into our own hands.” This is our idea of dirty talk and it mixes with the desperate whines of the birth video and my fingers once again dance and stroke between your folds.

You don’t want to move as the next contraction picks up, so you grab onto my shoulders as ripples of sensation flow through your body. I know you so well that I somehow bring you to the precipice once again and your body clenches at the same time the contraction peaks and there is such a massive release that your knees buckle and you would have certainly fallen to the ground if I didn’t catch you.

When you come down from the high after a few breaths, you notice that it’s not just my hand that’s wet, but your legs and the floor as well. “Either that was one hell of a squirt, or my water just broke.”

The splash you just released was audibly loud, but lost on you as you gasped at the same time. My ankles and feet were soaked, caught in the splash back but to my inexperienced eyes it certainly looked like your waters had broken. The next contraction came fast - much sooner than any previous ones leading up to it, and based on the howl you made, was certainly more noticeable. Your fingers clamped down on my arms, my biceps feeling like you were trying to rip them out of place. I grimaced as you continued to yell at the unexpected intensity. My hands found a way to either side of the small of your back and you fell into the embrace, your forehead burying into my chest as you screamed into it. Finally after the longest 30 seconds of your life you managed a sniffling gasp, the contraction over.

“That one was hard?” I enquired. You just nodded, eyes filled with tears. Finally you gave a shuddering sob and said that the waters being gone meant you felt the full weight of the baby, with no cushioning… and with gravity adding to it… it hurt, bad.

We agreed we would get you down onto your hands and knees on the bed and see how the next one felt. It took a few moments of clambering to get you repositioned but eventually you settled as you gave a warning “it’s starting again.”

Thankfully this contraction wasn’t as painful - not sure if it was simply because of the fact you knew what to expect or indeed not being upright did help, but you vocalised with loud moans and groans whilst rubbing your belly, your weight supported on one hand and your knees. I pulled your hair back and tied it into a ponytail as I kneeled next to you, one hand wrapped over your shoulder, the other on top of your hand rubbing the belly, and my lips kissing the side of your neck.

Shortly after the moans and groans subsided as the contraction let go. “That sounds like it helped?” I asked.

You nodded, still certainly feeling more and more pain compared to before your water broke. “I feel the head behind my pubic bone” you say, your voice shaky. “It’s moving down.”

“Ahh” I say, racking my brain to think of something we had watched in a preparing for birth video. “I saw something about putting your knees together and lowering your ass to the ground, that opens the pelvis.”

You nodded as you rested whilst you could. I looked at the clock in the room, muttering under my breath.

“What’s up?” You asked.

“Cameras need to be played with.” I said. “Can you believe we’ve been at this for 5 hours now?”

Your head turns toward me “Yes!” you yell, mentally recounting the aches, pains and orgasms you’ve experienced so far.

“Don’t go anywhere” I say as I scramble up to swap the cards and check on batteries for the cameras. The ones in three corners of the room were straightforward, but the one we mounted above the TV unit - intended to give a nice wide angle shot of the room and hopefully catch you pushing - needed to grab the steps from the corridor. As I set them up you ploughed your head into the pillows and groaned, yelling at me to hurry back, the next contraction building.

I fiddled and fumbled with the camera, pulling out one of the SD cards and dropping it in my haste to put the other one in and start recording again. I glance down and couldn’t see it, mentally noting that I’d have to look for it when everything was over.

Jumping down off the steps I rush back over to you and catch a glimpse of your pussy exposed on the bed. Where it had been smooth before it was now noticeably bulging - your gasping cry announcing “I felt a pop I think the head got past my pelvic bone.”

The contractions are relentless—long, intense waves that crash over you one right on top of the other. You couldn’t move from this position if you wanted to, and I support you the best I can but your whining moans are constant.

“Too fast. It’s too fast.” You keep repeating it over and over, as if your labouring body would pay any heed to your concerns. But an invisible force has hold of you, and it seems to be reaching up inside, clenching and squeezing a battering ram slowly but forcefully against a hole far too small for it to pass through.

“What can I do?”

You don’t have the mental strength to turn your head to look at me, but you can hear my concern in my voice. You give my hand a little squeeze to let me know you’re okay. “Hot compress, please.”

I check the bowl of water we had prepared earlier for just this situation. The water wasn’t quite as hot as it had been, but squeezing out the facecloth inside it still felt warm to my fingers. The cloth was warm and comforting on your aching pussy and you press back further into my palm. Perhaps it slowed the descent to a more bearable pace, or perhaps it was enough to give you some illusion of control over the primal roiling in your body; either way, you were able to come back to yourself and focus on your breathing, on my touch, on the incredible, if terribly painful, sensation of our child’s head moving through your hips.

It takes a good half hour for the contractions to begin to slow again, and once there’s actually enough space between them for you to rest, you sigh deeply and slump over onto your side.

Your face is red and damp and lined from being buried in the pillows for so long, but I'm there with a cool washcloth this time, placing it on your forehead and giving you an adoring smile.

“Well that was intense,” you say with a chuckle, reaching out to brush your fingers against my jaw.

I take your hand, twisting it to kiss your palm. “You’re doing amazing, mama.”

The word sends a thrill through you, and you reach around your belly to the space between your legs. You’re surprised at how different it feels, the soft mound of your lips domed out by a harder object trapped behind them. You try to slip a finger inside to see if you can touch the head, but the angle and your current physical limitations make that difficult.

“Can you feel it?” You ask, finally giving up your own efforts.

I give you a quick peck on the lips before sliding my fingers into the spaces you couldn’t reach and stop just shy of the base. “Oh, baby. Hi, baby,” I coo, and your eyes well up.

“You’re touching our baby right now?” I nod in response.

The next contraction begins to build and the force of it alone pushes my fingers a little further out. “Won’t be long before you do too. Feeling the urge to push yet?”

You were going to say no, but your body answers for you as it curls in on itself and you let out a strangled, surprised yelp and bear down into your first real push.

“I can’t help it” you gasp as you come up for air after the involuntary push. “My body just won’t refuse… I can’t NOT push.”

I scramble around to sit next to you and rub your back as you gasp and once more bend forward, gritting your teeth, scrunching up your face and putting in the effort. In between contractions I dash out to the bathroom and bring a dish with a washcloth, ring it out and lay it on your head.

I lean back and grab the tv remote, turning off out little movie marathon… looks like it’s time to make our own.

Another two pushes like that and you’re panting. Finally though it seem to have released you from its grip, giving you some respite.

You collapse back, breathing deeply, my eyes drawn to your heaving breasts, moving up and down with your laboured breathing.

“That hurts more than I could have imagined” you say to me, in between your breaths. “I need something to take my mind off it… something top drawer.”

I know exactly what you mean and jump up off the bed, scuttling around to your side. I slide open the bedside drawers and pull out your pink vibrator - your favourite.

I flick it on - the buzzing sound coming on announces that the batteries are charged - and get back into my position.

“Hurry, hurry… I’m pushing… I’m pushing!” You trail off the last syllable lost to an anguished moan. I turn the vibe to low and rest it on your clit. The effect is immediate. You jump at the added sensation and let out a howl. Thinking I have hurt you in some way I pull it away rapidly and you practically hiss at me “don’t you fucking dare take that away until I say so.”

I gently lower it back onto your bud and press lightly, your howl turning into a moan of pleasure. “Faster, the contraction is ramping” you say as you hold your breath and push, my finger rubbing the control button with an audible increase in the vibrations.

Your hand darts out to the side and grabs me, the other gripping the sheets. Your vice-like grip clamps down at the first part of me you grab, wrapped firmly around my cock which had been hardening since watching the show.

I gasp in surprise—and maybe a tiny bit of pain—and you force your hand to loosen, to stroke, to tease. The contraction still has you in its grip, but there’s an undertone of familiarity in this mutual pleasuring. It gives your mind something else to focus on even while your body moans and tenses and struggles and heaves.

When the pain begins to recede, you take over the operation of the vibrator and I scoot to the end of the bed. I hastily prop you up with a mound of pillows and position myself between your knees. Your ass is practically hanging off the bed as you wrap your legs around my hips, pulling me closer. I press my palms into the bed on either side of you and lean forward over your belly to give you a deep kiss before pressing my cock against your pussy.

There is no longer enough space in there for both me and the baby, but you're wet with arousal and birthing fluids and the vibrations from your toy send shocks of sensation through us both. I begin to slide slowly through the rift between your folds, coating the length of me. As the lubrication increases, so does my speed and intensity, desperate to maintain that delicious friction.

Another contraction begins and I pause, eyes a bit glazed and breathing heavily but nonetheless more concerned with your pain than my pleasure. You uncross your ankles to let your knees fall open and pull back on your thighs, tossing the vibrator to the side for the moment. You throw your head back and push hard, biting back a guttural groan at the intense pressure that comes with it.

While all your focus is on pushing, I can’t help but be mesmerized by the feel of the baby’s head bowing out your skin as you push. My hips are still flush with yours and it presses against my dick. After several more pushes the contraction dwindles and I pick up where I left off with renewed fervour. I'm practically on top of you when you jam the vibe back to its intended location, hips pumping and jerking furiously and releasing increasingly enthusiastic grunts.

I finish first, but immediately click up the vibration intensity up to the max as my mouth goes to your breast, licking and sucking and nipping until you come tumbling over the edge after me.

The nipple play brought on another contraction quicker than expected and you wail in surprise as your loosened muscles allow the head to surge forward quickly with the next push.

“Uhhhnghhh,” you moan, helpless against your body’s instincts. “Oh, oh, ngh!” You try to catch your breath, but your abdominal muscles won’t release. “Fuck, babe. Fuck. Fuck!” You’re almost panicked now, your knees reflexively trying to snap shut.

My firm but tender hands keep them in place as I remind you, “Slow, love. Gentle pushes now. Your body knows what it’s doing.”

If it did know, it wasn’t sharing that information with your brain, but you nod anyway. You let out an almost meditative hum, and the controlled release allows you to draw in a long deep breath.

“That’s my girl,” I say approvingly, giving your leg a little squeeze.

When it’s finally over, your eyes find mine and there’s a hint of excitement in them. “What is it?”

“I saw the head on that last push,” I reveal with a grin. Your hand automatically reaches out to feel but I shake my head. “It’s gone back in now, but it means you’re so close, babe.”

You pout and flop back into your nest of pillows. “I want to see too,” you whine, somewhat petulantly, and it gets a chuckle out of me.

“I thought you might feel that way, and I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you that I think might help.” I get up and rummage around in one of the dresser drawers, pulling out a small camera and flicking the tv on as I walk back to the bed. I position the lens right in front of your pussy and then flip the switch to turn it on. The tv suddenly lights up with a big screen projection of your bulging, gaping hole. “Now you can stand or squat or sit or be on hands and knees and you’ll still be able to see exactly what’s going on down there.”

“You’re… you’re recording this feed too, right?” You ask, transfixed as you open your legs wider and use your fingers to tug at the stretched skin to see if you can see anything in there.

I prop up a ring light and flip it on, adjusting it until it illuminated the area perfectly. “Of course.”

“Good,” You gasp, setting your eyes on the large screen,” because the next contraction is starting.”

You grunt as the contraction rapidly picks up, trying your hardest to focus on the screen and not close your eyes. In front of you is a crystal clear, 42 inch high definition image of your lower half, and you are suddenly in awe.

The picture is so clear, you see the rivulets of my previous load dripping down between your legs. I grab the washcloth and wipe the mess up, as you grunt and moan a hurried “get out the way” in between contractions.

As I whip away the cloth, we’re both taken aback by the large scale image of your slightly parting lips, and the white mass in between… you squeal, the revelation magical to you, and watch as the head slips back as the contraction fades away once more.

“That… that was something” you pant, trying to recover your breath. “But I need you to help me.”

I nod, giving you a kiss as I move to kneel down between your legs, as you rush to stop me.

“No!” You squeal when you realise I’m blocking the camera. In my haste I hadn’t realised.

“Get behind me… I need to…” and once more you pulled your legs back and held your breath, this time eyes closed in concentration.

I climb up onto the bed and squeeze in close behind you, scattering your pillow nest around the room as I get into place. I get onto my knees, and rock back onto my haunches as you flop back against me at the end of the push, your breathing ragged as you gasp for air.

My hands wrap around under your arms and rest cupping your breasts, where once more I start to massage the pronounced nubs, resulting in wet fingers as your milk starts to flow around them.

As the contraction rapidly builds, I look over your shoulder and stare at the screen, my eyes wide at the image. “Look, look baby… you’re doing it, you’re doing it.” I’m full of enthusiasm as I see more and more of the head peeking out, and finally your lips going from flesh coloured to puffy and red as they stretch to accommodate the mass behind them.

Your hands rush to instinctively cover your opening as you whine about the burning as you push but as you lower your fingers once more we see the results of your work - the teardrop shape of the head in place - the previous white skin back to a more satisfying pink colour visible between your lips as the pressure is finally released on the head and you get a moment of respite.

You use the precious time between contractions to catch your breath and massage your opening. It’s strange, exploring this intimate part of yourself that’s so familiar and yet, at the moment, entirely unrecognizable. It’s round and heavy and stinging, and there’s a patch of skin right at the centre that’s not your own.

“There’s our baby,” You sigh, resting your head back against my shoulder and stroking the small patch of exposed head with the pad of your finger. “Can’t wait to finally meet you.”

Your hand moves higher as another contraction starts, pressing into your clit as the skin beneath presses painfully outward. You push and the dome distends out impossibly far, but the crown remains stubbornly small. You don’t want to force anything before your body is ready (or, frankly, obstruct the view), so you stay this way, relaxed and removed from the pain, and let the reflexive force of your muscles do most of the work for the next few contractions. I help by keeping your knees pulled out and back as you groan and tense and hiss and shake, helping with the stretching in the quiet moments between.

There’s a much more circular, but still quite small, opening that our child is trying to force its way through when some primal desperation kicks in. Why is this taking so long? Why are you not opening up enough? What if the baby won’t fit? It already hurts so much, what if you can’t handle the rest of the birth?

You are anything but calm when the next contraction comes and your sudden panic - strangled whines and restless thrashing - takes me by surprise.

My eyes immediately go to the tv screen, but all seems just as it was to me. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You can’t put it into words. You just grip my thighs in an iron fist and throw everything into a wild push. The head surges forward and you scream as your hole stretches violently wider in one quick motion.

“Whoa, easy, easy!” I scramble for a warm wet cloth and leaning over your shoulder, press firmly against the modest crown. You try to squirm away from the counterpressure - at that moment you want nothing more than for this to be over with as quickly as possible - but of course I'm pressed up against you from behind as well; there’s nowhere for you to go. “It’s okay, I’ve got you. I’ve got you, and you’ve got this.”

You shake your head and attempt another monumental push, but this time I’m ready. In fact, I have to press so hard against your efforts than when the contraction is over and you finally stop pushing, the head goes most of the way back in and when I pull my hand away, you're back at a teardrop.

“No, no, NO!” You yell, taking me by surprise. I stroke your hair, telling you it will be ok but you just shake your head.

“It’s so hard… I just want to push it out but my lips won’t let it.” You’re frustrated, in pain, tired and getting a little too grumpy for your own peace of mind, so sigh, shaking your head and taking a deep breath, trying to get your focus back.

“You’re doing so well baby… just pant when it gets tight if you feel your pushes aren’t doing anything - let your body do some of the work.”

You nod, taking another glance at the tv as the contraction builds. Your eyes close and you mutter under your breath “come to mummy” as your lips bulge and your fingers trace circles around the tiny peak of skin between your legs.

I watch as the head bulges out again, your red, flared lips hugging it tightly. Once more you reach a peak of pain and start to yell as I remind you “pant, pant.”

You gasp, realising how much on autopilot you were acting and do just that, huffing giant gulps of air. The head stops retreating when you let go of the push.

“Baby’s on its way!” I cry out, you can’t help but have a giant grin on your face as the contraction finally releases you.

You’re fascinated by the way your pussy looks like this. There is still pain there—of course there is, with the amount of bulge there is right now—but there’s also hope, excitement, awe, maybe even a bit of arousal. You remember the promises I made when we were trying to conceive, promises to fill you up with a big baby and then watch as you struggle to push it out. And now you’re doing just that.

Another contraction starts and you begin to pant along with my coaching. The head pushes out further, but your hole doesn’t get any bigger. You hold your breath in an experimental push, but it just has you crying out and I suggest you go back to breathing and moaning and letting your body do the pushing.

You can’t disagree, but it’s so much more agonizingly slow this way. It’s probably another twenty minutes before there’s a noticeable size difference, and by then the pressure is unbearable.

“I have to push. I have to- I have to push!” You yell as the next contraction begins to build. It’s not a decision so much as a warning and your body trembles with tension and anticipation.

“Just wait until you absolutely can’t keep from pushing for another second.” Your breathing picks up to an unsustainable pace and your vocalizations reach new heights and your feet are off the bed, knees pulling back of their own accord in preparation. “Go for it babe,” I urge.

And you do. You give a mighty roar, but you're doing it. You swallow your fear of the pain and the chaos and you train your eyes on the taut round ‘O’ on the screen. At the slightly downward angle of the camera, you can see just how distended and round the head is behind your opening. With another push, it’s like you can see the whole outline of it and once again it doesn’t seem possible, but it is. I tell you over and over again that not only is it possible, but it’s happening.

It takes another few contractions of full on pushing when the animalistic part nearly takes over again. The slowly building fire is suddenly a full-on inferno between your legs and you slam back into me as if trying to retreat away from your own body, head thrown back in a silent scream and a few tears of pain falling down your cheeks as the fading contraction does nothing to douse the flames still raging on between your lips.

“It’s crowning now,” I tell you, since your eyes are closed.

“Mmhm,” You manage weakly, though when you look at the screen you find that it’s still not quite to a full crown. “Maybe… maybe I need a new position.”

“Do you want to squat, let gravity do a bit?” I ask, and you nod your head without uttering a word. Knowing that time is very much against us in between contractions, I lift you up under your shoulders, a difficult task as you’re unable to help pull yourself up from your position, but with a strong tug, and your legs scrabbling under you in their wide-open gait, we manage to get you upright.

The weight between your legs is immediately noticeable with the added effects of gravity causing you to yell as the next contraction picks up. Your hands grab onto my arms, the only thing keeping you upright right now, as your head pushes back into my shoulder, your roar loud and free of any inhibition.

I can no longer see any sign of the head glancing down between your breasts and belly so look frantically at the screen - your back arches back toward me as you push, trying desperately to move things along, but perhaps more importantly, that results in your crotch poking forward, still on display on the screen.

Your pussy is stretched tight, the head bulging out, the baby’s forehead starting to appear.

I think back to the videos, most of them showed the head shooting out soon after it crowned, but for you, it was moving with an agonising slowness, but it was moving. I’m sure with the next contraction it’ll get past the nose and ears, and surely that would mean there are no other protrusions keeping the head in place.

You scream in frustration as yet another contraction passes, you sag your weight against me. You’re panting heavily, exhausted at the effort.

“You’re doing great baby, almost there, maybe on the next push” is all I can offer by way of encouragement.

Nothing can compare to the fullness you feel. There is so much weight still pressing at your back, in your hips, and of course behind your opening. You can see it on the screen, the way your skin is drawn out taut and tight and so thin that you can see the ridges of the baby’s features just below the surface. The pressure built up behind is almost unbearable, and you’re panting desperately just to keep from pushing before it’s time, before your body is ready.

You moan when another contraction begins to take hold and I tighten my grip on you as your knees bend and you sink into a deeper squat.

“Mm, please come out, baby,” you beg, waiting for the urgency to build. “Hmmm. Oooooh. Ngh!”

The pressure peaks and you bear down hard with it. The dome bulges out comically far as your abdominal muscles war with your tight pussy. It retreats a bit when you release your breath, then pushes out again when you do.

“Do you want me to help ease the skin back?” I offer after another fruitless contraction.

You shake your head, determined to deliver the head without intervention. You stay in a deep squat this time, not risking losing any progress, and I settle onto my knees behind you—I’m more steady, plus the camera angle is better for both of us this way.

I nuzzle into your hair and kiss your neck. “You’re doing so well, baby.”

“I’m tired and it hurts,” You pout. I hum in sympathy, but my eyes never leave the screen and you can feel that I'm hard again. “At least you’re enjoying this part.”

I kiss you again. “You know what those sounds you’re making do to me. How hard you’re working and how beautifully you’re opening up. All for our baby. Can’t help it if I’m excited.”

You know you will be too, watching this back. But right now, another contraction slams into you and you tug your knees back as far as they’ll go. You're shaking with exertion, but finally there’s movement and you howl as your skin stretches over the nose. The movement stops when you release your push and I urge you to keep going.

“Baby’s almost here, you can do it! Pushpushpush!”

With considerable effort, you suck some air into your lungs and hold it there, putting your chin to your chest and heaving another massive push. A desperate high-pitched squeal escapes you as you cross the mouth and chin, but you manage to hold onto the push until finally…

“Head’s out! Oh my god, the head’s out. You did it, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Fluids leak out around the head as I check for a cord. The baby turns in my hands just before another contraction picks up—now you just have to get through the shoulders.

You’re stunned, the feeling of the “pop” resonating around your entire being as you felt the head come free. You’re panting, waiting for the immediate urge to push to finish all the hard work and effort you had put in today, but your body wouldn’t let you.

You relax, waiting for the contraction to build. Taking a moment you reach down, whilst simultaneously looking at the view of the head resting between your legs. It looks so… calm, considering the effort leading up to it.

Your hand strokes the baby and you mutter under your breath “I can’t believe it”

You can’t keep your elation in check. All of the last few moments passed in only a heartbeat in real time but for you the moment lingered for what seems like minutes. You snap out of it when I land a kiss on your forehead and join your hands holding the baby.

Suddenly the peace is shattered as the next contraction builds. You push, effort renewed, you go deeply inward wanting things to be over, but the hoped for release doesn’t happen. You expected the shoulders to slip out.

Another push, once again no movement. You start to fret a little, you yell with the next push “come out!”

I’m started at the exclamation as I look down between your legs and we see the baby’s hand poking out from under its chin. The next word summarises the moment perfectly… “fuck!”

You give a mighty heave, and panic slightly when progress halts and the pain ratchets up unbearably. You scream, partially in frustration but also very much in agony, and I immediately drop to my knees for better access to what’s happening between your legs.

“Wait, stop, stop pushing!”

The urgency in my tone is the only thing that could give you pause in that moment, and you look down to see a small trickle of red down your leg and absorbing into the pad beneath your feet. You try panting to keep from pushing and squeeze my shoulder. “Did I- shit, did I tear?”

I’m quiet for a moment, my hands gently supporting your skin and holding the baby firmly in place. “No, no I don’t think so,” I finally say, giving you a bit of a nervous smile. “But you’ve gotta go really slow now to stretch around the arm and the shoulders.”

“Right. Slow.” You glance down at my awkward crouched position, and yours is not much better. “Maybe I should try lying down again.” That had certainly slowed down progress before.

Bracing yourself with one hand on the mattress, you lean down onto your hip, then fully onto your side, keeping your other knee flared out and open as I adjust to accommodate the baby’s head. You grab a pillow to support your belly. You shift restlessly when another contraction starts and pull your leg back towards you.

“Easy, controlled pushes now,” I remind you, giving the inside of your thigh an affectionate stroke. “You’ve got this.”

You nod, more to yourself than to me, and slowly contract your abdominal muscles. Your breath leaves in a low hum with the effort as your stomach squeezes and compresses. You can feel the pressure build up behind your opening, but much like before, nothing progresses further into the world.

Several more contractions later and you’re starting to get tired and discouraged. “I don’t care about tearing anymore, I just want this baby out,” you whine, close to tears.

I run my free hand up and down your shin comfortingly. “You don’t mean that. And besides, you’re doing great.” When I see you grab your knee and curl forward again, I say, “Alright, this is the one, I can feel it.” you have your eyes squeezed shut, but I lean forward to brush your cheek and point your chin toward the TV. “Just look at how beautiful you are, how amazing your body is.” You’re stretched so impossibly wide and the head is so big, it really is a miracle the delivery has gone as well as it has so far. “You were made for this; now just let it happen.”

With your eyes on the screen, you join your hand with mine under the baby’s head, and push.

Your grunt starts low in your chest and builds and builds as you apply more and more pressure between your legs. I lean to the side so the overhead camera gets a good view - as the hand and shoulder slide out from between your legs. You’re obviously aware of it as you let out a joyful whoop of success.

“Keep going baby” I offer as you once more grunt and heave. I adjust my arms to support the weight of the baby as its second shoulder slides out, then suddenly without warning, once all the things blocking it leaving were removed, the baby’s torso and legs shot out, taking both of us by surprise.

Your eyes shot wide open. “It’s over?” You gasped.

“We have our baby… a daughter” I smile as I lift the - surprisingly large - baby up between your legs and lay it on your chest. Tears are flowing freely from your eyes now, the sense of success and relief washing away all of the last few hours.

I take a glance around the room, all camera lights were still blinking. I give a thumbs up gesture to be captured for posterity as I get up and move to your shoulders to coo over the baby who is now crying up a storm.

“Can’t wait to see how the video comes out.” I grin.

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