surrogate-fawn

[surrogate-fawn]

Don’t Pull Over!

This car birth audio was so fun to make. I took the many requests to be louder, so beware of volume! 🩵

[surrogate-fawn]

Yep, my cycle is definitely back to normal because my ass is hornier than I've been in months now that Aunt Flo had her visit.

Health Update:

It took 7 months but I finally had a period! Yay! Hopefully it doesn't happen again.

[surrogate-fawn]

Buck got a VERY good job lately. I'm really hoping this is the start of a better financial future for us.

And he said he intends to propose in a few months. 🌹💘

[surrogate-fawn]

Im a fan of #7.

Nesting (Werewolf AU)

Prompt: "The baby feels so low" [Also inspired by @hush-writes-preg's "Spooky Season Day #3" prompt. He can consider this an early birthday gift as well!]

Characters: Fawn, Newt/Asher - Pre-Polly Relationship ((Newt is owned by @mittysins, and Asher is owned by @killer-orca-cosplay.))

Context: This takes place in a modern world where werewolves are common amidst human society. Fawn is a packless Beta who is about to give birth to her ex-mate's pup. Newt, an Omega, and Asher, an Alpha, are a mated pair who took Fawn into their home -- despite the fact they're expecting a pup of their own in a few months. The three have formed a close friendship, though Fawn still feels like an outsider. After all, she was human only a year ago.

Disclaimer: This fic contains lore for my, Mitty's, and Orca's werewolf AU -- be forewarned there will be worldbuilding mixed in with the kink stuff. If story-heavy kink is your kind of thing -- like it is for us three -- enjoy!

TW: A/B/O dynamics, but within the context of a werewolf society; mentions of past abuse, werewolf-related birth troubles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Smoky whisps of incense scented the room with lavender. The shades were drawn over the windows to block the fading sun. Golden fairy lights twinkled in the gossamer curtains woven through the support beams of the nesting tent, the only dots of light in the dark room.

The nylon pop-up tent was specially designed for those who were nesting. It clung to the baseboard and covered the entire bed in a snug, arched shelter. It could be zipped or unzipped in sections to create windows and doors as needed, or it could be shut tight for total privacy. The interior of the tent was stuffed full of jumbo-sized Squishmallow plushies, three oversized duvet covers, and one very pregnant werewolf.

"How you doing, Mama?" the mop-haired Alpha sitting bedside asked.

Fawn's pointed ear flicked in the direction of his voice in acknowledgement before she opened her eyes. She lay curled around a giant fox pillow, the soft material supporting her belly as she lay dozing in the tent. She had opened a section of the tent by the headboard so she could leave the nest if she wanted, but at the moment she didn't feel safe anywhere else.

"I've been better," she said, her voice lagging with fatigue.

A dewy layer of sweat clung to her whole body. Her clothing was shed to the bedroom floor, save for a black tank top and pair of boyshorts. The air around her was temperate, but her body burned with a mild fever. Her muscles felt heavy and useless, tired from months of carrying her pregnancy whilst fighting the tremors of rejection sickness. The worst of it had passed over time; but here she was, still feeling the effects of breaking her pair bond almost ten months later.

Oh, and being in labor for the last nine hours was not helping the situation.

The soft click of the door handle caught their attention. The pair of cryptids lifted their heads to look as it opened, the hallway light reflecting green in the mirrors of their eyes.

Newt's familiar scent -- much stronger than his mate's -- overpowered the lavender as he entered the room. Fawn's sinuses tingled with the spicy-sweet aroma of his smell, comparable to sassafras, that indicated his pregnancy as much as the grapefruit-sized swell of his lower belly. Fawn still struggled to describe the scents that were new to her.

The Omega approached her nest and held out the glass of tap water he'd been sent to fetch. Fawn craned her neck and lapped from it, her mouth too parched to obey her command. Her tongue was longer than it had once been, able to bring water to her throat as easily as any straw. She didn't pause to wrap her lips around the edge of the glass until her thirst was mostly quenched.

"Jeez, don't drown," Newt chuckled as Fawn took the drink from his hand.

Asher, the Alpha, got up from his seat and offered it to his mate with a nod of his head.

Fawn gulped down the last of the water and came up panting for air. "Don't tell me what to do," she retorted with a tired, playful grin.

"Don't tell her what to do, babe," Asher said, unable to disguise the smirk on his face as he set the empty glass on the bedside table.

The three shared a brief, quiet laugh.

Fawn's eyelids drifted closed as the room settled back into silence. She shimmied herself deeper into her pile of softness, falling easily into a twilight sleep; at least, for a few more minutes.

A huff of air left Fawn's nose a split second before her brow creased in discomfort. "Ash, start it," she said, curling tighter around her pillow.

"Yes, ma'am." Asher fumbled to unlock his phone and started the timer on his stopwatch app. "Started."

Fawn filled her lungs with air with one long breath and released it as a drawn-out exhale. The contraction coiled itself around her hips and squeezed, growing tighter by the second. The pain grew like a stinging vine around her belly, her ribs, her back, even wrapping around her upper thighs.

With a low groan, Fawn rolled herself onto her back. Her legs fell open at a wider angle than normal -- a sign her hips were loosening in preparation for her large pup to come through. She continued her ritual of slow, deliberate breathing as the contraction continued to climb to its dreaded peak.

Newt leaned into the opening in the tent, enough for him to run a gentle hand over the clammy skin of Fawn's arm. He didn't say anything, but his touch brought her a sense of ease. Even knowing that Asher was in the room, even if she couldn't see him, made her feel better. They'd only known each other a month, but she couldn't imagine surviving labor without them.

Fawn flashed her fangs in a snarl as the contraction reached its apex, the part she dreaded each time. "Ugh!" she growled through her teeth, her head pressed back into the pillow.

Newt's eyes widened when Fawn hooked her hands beneath her knees, drawing her legs up on either side of her belly. "Are you pushing already?"

"She's what?!" Asher gasped in alarm, his face appearing over his mate's shoulder.

"No!" Fawn growled, hardly able to breathe enough to speak. "My legs are about to fuckin' dislocate!"

She could feel the pup pressing its way out, prying open the flesh of her cervix as her womb squeezed it down. The pressure sent stabbing waves of agony between her legs. Her birth canal opened a little more with each millimeter the pup dropped, and now it was putting unbearable pressure on the ball-socket joints of her pelvis.

Fawn grunted in relief as the contraction ebbed. She released her legs, draping them wide apart over her plushies. Thankfully, Newt and Asher's guest bed was queen-sized and allowed her plenty of space to spread out.

"It's done," she announced, so Asher could stop the timer.

"Ooh, getting close," Asher said. "That one was thirty-eight seconds."

Even that short burst of work sent drops of sweat rolling down Fawn's sides. She pulled her tank top over the curve of her belly and tucked the fabric under her swollen breasts. She caressed the sore underside of her bump in long, soothing circles. The skin around her womb was pulled smooth as glass from the weight of the pup inside. She could feel where its surface was gouged by deep, purple stretch marks. Her pup wriggled impatiently beneath her hands, as if able to sense her touch through the thinness of the skin.

"Call me crazy," she said, "but I'm hoping this baby takes its time. It might rip me apart if it tries to break the speed record."

Asher checked the recorded times in his phone. "You'll be fine, it doesn't look like they're in a hurry," he said. "Just stay relaxed and the pup will keep working its way down."

Fawn gave a thumbs-up. "Copy that, Sarge."

"So, guys, are we taking bets?" Newt asked, resting his upper torso inside the tent.

Fawn tilted her head to peer up at him from inside the canyon of her pillow plushie. "On what?"

"Boy or girl," Newt grinned. He propped his chin up on his hand and beamed down at the redheaded wolf woman. "Should we take bets?"

"You boys can if you want," Fawn said.

"Just you versus me, babe," Asher chuckled from somewhere else in the room. "Fawn already knows, that would be cheating."

"No, I don't," Fawn said, quiet and matter-of-fact. She turned her eyes to the little golden lights twinkling over her head. "I didn't know if a doctor would make me contact my mate, so I never went to one."

At the mention of him, the mating scar at the nape of Fawn's neck became hot. She grimaced, able to feel each small wound his teeth had left when he'd inflicted her with the curse of the wolves. It wasn't as strong of a reaction anymore; the pain had at one point been overwhelming.

When she'd taken that first step out of the apartment with the intention to never come back, the mark had burned so intensely she thought she could smell her flesh searing. She was lucky Todd hadn't been home, because he'd no doubt felt the same sensation on the back of his neck -- where he had forced her to mark him as her mate as well. Had he been home, Fawn wouldn't have made it out of the building before he'd realized what she was doing.

"Besides," Fawn added, "I have no idea if I should go to a doctor or a vet now." Her freckled face paled, and she looked back up at Newt. "Shit, is that offensive?"

Newt laughed and leaned in to rub his cheek against her forehead. "Nah."

Fawn smiled as he brushed against her, leaving a bit of his spicy-sweet scent on her skin. She was still adjusting to perceiving the world through scent as much as sight and touch, but she grew more comfortable with it each time the pair scented her. Scent was transforming into language the more she utilized it. Maybe she wasn't sure how to communicate with it, yet; but there was something about it she was starting to understand.

"We'll show you the ropes once you're over the rejection sickness," Asher said, leaning against the nightstand so he could peer into the nest. "So . . . this guy didn't explain any of our lifestyle to you?"

Fawn shook her head. "Not anything us hum-," she paused, pressing her lips into a thin line. "Not anything humans don't already know. Transformation and full moon stuff, basically. He had me sell my silver jewelry before he'd even kiss me. I didn't know werewolves were that sensitive to it."

The boys shared a concerned look.

"Um," Asher cleared his throat, "we aren't. Silver allergies are rare as hell. A few poor bastards had a fatal reaction hundreds of years ago, and humans assumed it was a rule for all of us."

"Good old stereotyping," Newt said.

The lines in Fawn's brow deepened. "That piece of dogshit," she muttered under her breath. "I sold my grandma's pendant for him!"

Goddammit! Why hadn't she thought twice about Todd suddenly needing to "borrow" that money?! Her mating scar throbbed, seeping heat like an open wound where their pair bond had once been. A fresh sweat dampened her brow.

Newt brushed a few stray curls from Fawn's eyes and tucked them behind the point of her ear. "Fuck him. He's a dick."

"Yeah, fuck him," Asher agreed with a frown. His ear twitched as his scowl deepened, knocking his glasses askew. "Alphas are supposed to protect our mates, not take advantage of them."

There was a brief pause. Asher took off his glasses, cleaned them on his shirt, and added: "For what it's worth, Fawn . . . I'm sorry on his behalf."

"Me, too," Newt nodded. "Not as an Alpha, but as a wolf."

Fawn sighed and draped an arm over her eyes. "Thank you for that, boys. It helps . . . at least a little."

She felt like the world's biggest idiot.

When they'd met, she'd been seduced by Todd's hyper-masculine physique and charmed by his overly protective "doting". How special she'd felt, having an Alpha werewolf want her -- an average human woman -- as his mate. In hindsight, being an average human woman was exactly what made him want her. Easy prey.

How quickly she'd regretted her decision to let Todd put her in a mating press. After she'd endured the weeks it took for her anatomy to shift into that of his kind, Todd had convinced her they needed to breed as soon as possible. He wanted a large pack, as many pups as she could give him. It didn't take her long to realize they were the only reason he'd claimed her. Days after leaving him, she'd detected the strange smell of sassafras on her skin -- though she wouldn't know what that meant for two months.

The rejection sickness had masked any symptoms of a pregnancy. The effects were like that of withdrawal: fevers high enough to cause delirium, tremors, nausea, and full-body aches. She'd spent endless days and nights confined to the bed of a sleazy motel room. What carried her through was the knowledge that Todd was feeling just as shitty as she was. Yet, in her darkest moments, Fawn considered going back to him just to make it stop.

Then, her world changed when a fellow wolf woman at the drugstore offered congratulations based on her scent. This prompted her to buy a pregnancy test, and the thought of going back never crossed her mind again.

"Fellas?" Fawn asked, still blindfolding herself with her forearm. "Is a large pack, like . . . a status symbol for y'all or something?"

Asher shrugged. "Not as much as it used to be," he said. "It used to be a big deal in the past, like before we had the treaty with humans. That was because our packs needed the numbers for defense. But now? Not as much."

"Except maybe for those freakishly traditional families," Newt chimed in.

"Mmm," Fawn hummed in acknowledgement. She placed her other hand on the upper swell of her belly and gave it a thoughtful rub. "Well, this baby is mine. I'm not giving birth for the sake of some insecure asshole. This is my baby."

"Damn right it is," Newt grinned, his blue eyes glittering in the low light.

After a few seconds of silence, Fawn's limp-hanging hand curled into a fist. "Mmm, Ash . . . " Her voice trailed off into a chesty groan.

Newt looked over at his mate. "Ash, start it."

Asher pulled out his phone with a nod. "Starting."

Newt massaged Fawn's shoulder as she once again pulled back her legs. The pressure in her hips was immense, and the contraction was heaving the baby down with unholy force. Fawn pulled harder on her knees until she felt her pelvis widen, the bones drifting apart like tectonic plates.

"Breathe, Fawn," Newt gently reminded. "You're holding it."

Fawn hissed out her breath like a deflating tire. "God, it's coming down," she groaned. She shut her eyes and whined as the pup pressed harder against her cervix.

"Change position," Asher offered, bending down to see inside the nest. "Let gravity help you out."

Fawn released a high-pitched whimper. "My hips . . . my hips hurt."

"Here, hold on." Newt reached around Fawn and pulled out another of her oversized Squishmallows from the pile. He left his chair and climbed onto the bed, crawling through the opening of the tent with the plushie in-hand. "Sit up, love."

Fawn reluctantly let her legs fall. Her bones were lead. With Newt's help, she got to her knees and straddled herself atop the large pillow plushie so her hips could remain open.

"There, that's better!" Asher said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. His phone screen reflected in his lenses, revealing the contraction had lasted twenty seconds already.

Fawn bent forward onto all-fours, rhythmically dipping her hips into the pillow as the pain climbed higher than it had before. The Omega at her side dug the heel of his hand into her lower back, allowing Fawn to rock back against the counter-pressure. Her deep breathing wavered, each inhale growing shallower until the wolf woman was full-on panting.

"Calm down, you're doing fine," Newt lulled, ghosting his claws over her spine. "Deep breaths, like you were doing."

Sweat appeared in shining beads on Fawn's reddened face, dampening the frizzy curls around her temples. "I can't," she gasped. All four limbs trembled, fatigued muscles giving up the last of their strength. "I can't . . . I need to lie down."

Fawn sank chest-first into the fox plushie, arms unable to support her weight. Her tongue dipped in and out of her mouth as she failed to control of her breathing. Her fingers sank into the duvet, claws tearing holes in the fabric.

The end of the tent unzipped, creating an arch-shaped door that Asher climbed in through. While Newt continued to knead Fawn's back, Asher laid himself beside her.

"Hey, Mama, look at me," he crooned, his face appearing in the corner of her vision. When her hazel eyes met his, he said: "You are owning this! There's no need to get freaked out. You're too tough for labor to beat. Take a deep breath for us, alright?"

Fawn wet her lips and maintained eye contact with the Alpha while she drew in a big breath.

"Good!" Asher smiled, patting her shoulder. "Now let it out and make the next one even deeper. Show that pain who's boss!"

She obeyed, but mid-inhale she choked on air. With a canid yowl, Fawn pressed herself against the Alpha's body. Her hips ground against the pillow, as if it would cushion the force of her pelvis being forced apart.

"Ugh, gravity's helping too much!" Fawn moaned into Asher's shirt. "This pup is about to fall outta me!"

"That's a good thing!" Asher encouraged, draping his arm over her and motioning for his mate to lie down beside them. "You're making progress. The pup will be here before you know it!"

Fawn's hips finally settled as the contraction eased off, but she still felt unable to move. Her pelvis sat wide open, and the hefty weight of the pup was sinking deep inside it -- even without the contraction.

“Augh, fuck,” she moaned, the sound rumbling in her chest. “Fuck . . . the baby feels low. It feels so fucking low!"

"Ash?" Newt asked as he rearranged the pillows to better support the three of them. "Are you still timing?"

Asher caressed Fawn's thigh as she shifted to support her upper body against the mountain of Squishmallows Newt had piled up. Newt reclined on his side beside her, flashing her a bright smile -- his fangs always hung over his lower lip when he smiled.

"No, I think we're just feeling it out now," Asher said. He'd left his phone charging on the nightstand, just in case they needed it. "I think we're 'reaching a checkpoint' as it were."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Gamers."

Fawn snuggled into the pillow mountain, trying in vain to get comfortable. It wasn't as dramatic as what they showed on television, but Fawn knew exactly what the hot rush of fluid was as it soaked the pillow between her legs.

"Umm, hey . . ." She nudged the pillow aside, revealing ribbons of cloudy water running down her inner thighs. "I think it's time to lose the shorts."

Asher pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And checkpoint reached!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For five hours, no one left that tent. The room grew darker as the evening gave way to the early morning hours of pre-dawn. The boys stayed at either side of the laboring wolf woman, holding her steady in positions that allowed her pup to ease down with gravity.

Between contractions, the three werewolves lay side-by-side in tranquil silence. The sweat on Fawn's brow would dry, her feverish body would cool, but the warmth of two other bodies prevented the chills from returning. That quiet peace would be broken when Fawn vocalized during a new contraction, signaling the boys to sit her up and widen her stance.

Fawn was growing restless, wanting to switch positions several times during every contraction: squatting against the headboard, kneeling against one guy or the other, or falling into a half-squat in a pile of her plush pillows. The longer the night wore on, the more fidgety the laboring mother became.

At around four in the morning, as the trio rested together beneath the fairy lights, Fawn suddenly spoke:

"Is the cradle ready?"

"Hmm?" Asher sat up and readjusted his glasses.

"Is the cradle ready?" Fawn repeated. There was a glint of urgency in her eyes, although her tone was soft and even.

The fold-out mesh bassinet was visible from inside the nest, placed against the opposite wall. The pup's first outfit was already laid out atop the blanket lining the mattress -- a cotton quilt with embroidered rubber duckies that Newt had donated from the stash he was buying for his own pup.

After a quick glance, Asher responded: "Yep, it's ready and waiting."

"Can you grab some extra blankets or something?" Fawn pleaded. She gradually drew her legs up until her heels touched the underside of her thighs. "Just anything that's soft."

Newt sat himself up and gave his mate a knowing look. "Babe? You think this is that 'final nesting' the baby books talked about?"

Asher's eyes widened. "Oh, crap. It might be."

"What?" Fawn asked. She suddenly realized she couldn't remember what either of the boys had just said -- she wasn't fully aware of what was going on around her. It was so, so hard to focus on anything other than the pounding pressure that had come to rest in the curve of her tailbone.

The mated pair gave each other a nod.

"Ash and I have been reading books about pups like crazy this month," Newt explained in a lighthearted tone. "'Final nesting' is just what your brain does right before the pup is ready to come out."

Asher grabbed the corner of the topmost duvet and rolled it towards them until it became a padded cushion. He carefully slid it beneath Fawn and said: "Yep, it's an instinct. Got to make sure the pup has a safe place to land, you know."

Now it was Fawn's turn to go wide-eyed. "Wait . . . wait, is it happening?" she gasped, her head shooting up off the pillows.

"Maybe," Newt said. "You'll know if it is." He placed a pillow over his torso to protect his belly and scooted behind Fawn to support her into a squat.

"And if it isn't, then we'll just wait some more," Asher concluded. "Don't try to bear down if you don't need to."

Fawn nodded, gulping down the dryness in her throat. She had no idea what to expect with the next contraction. If the monstrous pressure she was feeling hadn't triggered her body to push by then . . . oh, God above, what was about to happen to her?

"I don't . . . don't know if I'm ready for this," she muttered.

Newt leaned in and rubbed his cheek against the side of her neck. "You're as ready as you'll ever be," he said. He intertwined his clawed fingers with her own.

Fawn didn't feel the next contraction as pain, only as a familiar tightness wrapping around her womb. All other sensation was snuffed out . . . massacred . . . left bleeding in the streets! . . . by the wicked downward thrust of her pup moving through her effaced cervix. There was nothing holding that baby in her womb any longer, and it was not waiting another minute to leave.

"Oh, my God!" she screamed -- out of fear more so than pain. Her hips jerked back, trying to escape the demonic pressure burning inside.

Newt squeezed her hands -- his claws never marking her skin. "You feel it?"

"Yes!" Fawn cried, her body shuddering under the hellish urge to push.

"Go with it," Asher encouraged, placing his hand on her knee. "Let's meet your pup."

Fawn held her breath and gave a shallow, hesitant first push. She wasn't sure if she was using the correct muscles, but it felt . . . how could she describe it? . . . it felt like she was doing something. A few seconds of strain later, she let up with a sharp yelp. Yes, she'd been doing it right. That slight nudge had sent the pup rushing forward.

"It's moving . . ." was all she had time to say before her body demanded she continue her efforts -- and double them!

Those few millimeters of progress kicked her urge to push into overdrive. Fawn braced her weight against Newt, put chin to chest, and bore down with every ounce of force she could. The crown of the head pressed deeper against her innermost walls with a fiery, thorny tug. The sensation of her baby moving through her after so many passive hours of labor was startling -- yet beyond rewarding.

Had her eyes been open to see, Fawn would have observed Asher's tender smile as he watched primal focus harden her features.

"Just like that, Mama," Asher praised, again stroking her thigh. "Don't hold back, give it your all!"

Sweat trailed down her flushed skin. Unable to hold the push any longer, Fawn emptied her lungs with a harsh grunt.

"It's already hurting me," she growled through closed fangs. Her voice strained as, for just a few horrible seconds, she resisted the urge to push. "Goddamn, this is gonna suck!"

Newt laid his chin on Fawn's shoulder as she sank into another deep push. "Whatever you feel, don't fight it," he offered evenly. "Your body knows what it's doing, Fawn. Listen to what it's telling you to do."

Fawn's ears pressed back against her head as her hips dipped lower to the duvet. She felt a small trickle of fluid drip from her labia, but the flow stopped as soon as she stopped pushing. A groan escaped the back of her throat as the contraction eased off and she was able to relax.

"That was great," Newt praised, unlacing their fingers and letting Fawn have her hands back. "You got the hang of it right off the bat."

Fawn sighed and balled the duvet beneath them in her claws. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her pulse hammered in her neck. Any sense of physical comfort was gone now, even between contractions. She knew there would be no peace for her until this pup was out and in her arms . . . but God only knew when that would happen. God only knew if that would happen! The pup was barely inside her birth canal and Fawn was already terrified that it was going to get stuck.

"What if . . . what if I can't get it out?" she panted. Her lower back was screaming, so she shifted her hips forward. It didn't help. "What do we do if I can't get it out?!"

"Hey, hey, don't think like that," Newt helped Fawn recline a bit further against him. He steadied her in his arms, his hands gently massaging the curves where her belly met her ribcage. "There's no doubt in our minds that you can do this!"

"And I'm down here if you need a little extra help," Asher said. He carefully took Fawn's leg and draped it over his lap, helping to open her hips now that she was in a more reclined position. "We won't let anything happen to you or your pup, Fawn. That's a promise."

"You're safe here," Newt said in a low, soothing tone. He continued to apply soft pressure to her sides and back, kneading over her sore body as if smoothing out a delicate fabric.

Fawn never doubted for a second that she was in loving hands. She dreaded to think where she would be right now if the pair hadn't opened their home to her. Without their kindness, chances were that she'd be delivering her baby in a motel bathroom or on top of a cot in a homeless shelter. These two had given her the ultimate gift: a warm, safe place to give birth. She owed her pup's life to them.

"I know," Fawn said, snuggling down further into the nest. "I don't want to be anywhere else right now."

Newt bent down and pressed a kiss to Fawn's hairline. "Keep listening to your body. Don't rush what it's trying to do."

Fawn nodded, puffing out a breath as she felt the next contraction roll up from her back to her belly. "Okay . . . let's go."

She took in a slow lungful of air, waited for the contraction to build in strength, and pushed.

Her loosened joints spread easily for the pup's skull as it squeezed its way down her passage. It became an endless pattern: Fawn would push, the head would squeeze down, and her pelvic bones would spread over its shape as it passed beneath them. She could feel the rhythm of the changes.

Push. Squeeze. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread.

Rest.

Push. Squeeze. Spread. Spread. Spre-OW!

OW! OW! Oh, fuck! Now it was so too big! Her hips were filled to the maximum, her canal stretched wide around a huge pair of shoulders as they slipped from her womb. She could feel her labia bulging from between her legs -- and oh, God, they ached! There was nothing but a layer of her skin holding the pup in, and it felt like a bubble of gum about to burst!

But she couldn't stop pushing. Not now, not when everything was raw and stretched and open and hurting so goddamn bad! Fawn curled her toes into the mattress and wailed as she threw herself harder into pushing. Her voice grew louder as she felt the inflamed skin between her legs starting to open.

"Good job, Mama! Here it comes!" Asher cried, his voice raised to be heard over Fawn's roar of effort.

Asher had his eyes glued to the pale, wet sac pressing out of Fawn each time her body strained. He'd read in their books that it was common for werewolf pups to be born with their membranes wrapped around them. That was fine, he just had to be prepared to remove it.

A tiny spurt of fluid leaked out from around the sac as the head began to stretch the skin of the perineum. The pup's size seemed to be keeping most of its sac unruptured, the fluid too pressurized to leave the birth canal. Asher furrowed his brow but said nothing.

Of course, Newt took notice of his mate's unease. He swallowed the unease in his chest, and scented Fawn's hair with his cheek again in the hopes it would distract her.

"Ash sees the head," he crooned. "Keep going, you're pushing like a pro!"

With renewed vigor, Fawn gave into her body's needs. Asher waited until a few centimeters of the solid white membrane stretched open Fawn's lips, then he placed his index finger against the bulging sac to gauge how much fluid was inside. He felt the semi-solid squish of the pup's head just beneath the film, but his finger pad felt the swish of water when he pressed down. That wasn't a very good sign, but Asher still felt confident that he could handle it.

"I'm going to help you out a little, okay?" Asher told Fawn, cupping his hand over the crowning pup. "Focus on pushing, and I'll help you open up. I'll go slow."

Newt once again sensed Asher's unease and made it his mission to protect Fawn from sensing it, too. "Pup's almost out, Fawn," he said as he gave her shoulders a brief hug. "It'll be out quicker with Ash helping you. Just take a deep breath and let yourself stretch."

"I'm trying," Fawn whimpered. "I'm trying."

As Fawn bore down against the pup, Asher ran his fingers against the sides of her lips. He nudged her skin open bit by bit around the sac, watching as it stretched from a small oval to a wide circle over the course of several minutes. Asher cringed as he saw the skin of her labia discolor from a raw red to an almost beet purple with the width of the head.

Fawn, meanwhile, had fallen completely taciturn. Aside from wolfish growls and whimpers, she made no efforts to express her pain verbally. Her focus had shifted solely to bearing through the ordeal, working with her body to bring it to a swift end.

"Keep going, we're almost there!" Asher cheered. He had his hands positioned at the apex of her inner thighs, supporting the tight skin as Fawn pushed the head to its widest point.

Fawn shuddered and let her head fall back on Newt's chest. Her mind was a mess of black static as the pup's shoulders ground against her pubic bone. She arched her spine as the pup ceased to move for one heart-stopping moment. Then, in a sudden lurch, the sac-covered head popped free into Asher's waiting hands.

"Awesome! Awesome, Fawn!" Newt cheered, peering over her shoulder as much as he could. He could see the white membrane resting in his mate's palm. "Babe, you got it?"

Asher nodded. "I've got it, don't worry."

Without drawing attention to it, Asher took the claw of his thumb and carefully -- oh-so-carefully -- punctured the membrane at the base of where he felt the pup's neck should be. A quiet sploosh filled the nesting tent as amniotic fluid rushed over Asher's hands. He hooked his claw inside the tear and slowly peeled the sac over the pup's head.

There wasn't much hair on the pup's head -- unusual, though not uncommon -- but that wasn't what Asher was looking for. He craned his neck at a painful angle until he could catch a glimpse of the pup's face. When he saw it, he paled. The features were predictably swollen, but the puffy lips were hanging open and dripping a thick yellowish mucus. Asher thanked the stars above that he and his partner had read up about whelping -- for he was able to recognize the tell-tale symptom of waterlogged lungs.

The mates locked eyes with each other and nothing else needed to be said or done. They both understood.

"This is it, love," Newt said, leaning in to help Fawn hold her legs apart. "This next contraction is going to be the one."

Fawn's jaw gaped like a suffocating fish, but finally her voice obeyed her command: "Is my baby okay?"

Oh, hell. She must've smelled the pheromones of their stress. Newt had been hoping she wouldn't understood what the scent of fear was, yet.

Newt smiled at her and brushed her sweat-plastered hair away from her eyes. "They're fine, they just need some extra help."

"When you push, I'll give them a little tug," Asher said. "It's going to hurt, but it'll be over before you know it."

Fawn squeezed her eyes shut. "Can't hurt any worse than this," she mumbled. "Just do it."

The boys were expecting the horrific scream Fawn released when Asher began guiding out the first shoulder, but it still made their sensitive ears ring.

"You're so strong, Fawn!" Newt said into her ear. He felt her legs trying to close against the pain, and he had to pause to pull them back apart. "I know it hurts, but you're handling it so well! We're so proud of you!"

Asher kept his focus locked on delivering the pup as fast and as safe as possible. One hand supported the pup's body while the other pulled down on the emerging shoulder.

"Come on, little guy," Asher muttered under his breath. "Come on, you can do it."

With an audible pop of Fawn's hip joints -- and another yowl from the wolf woman herself -- the pup's first shoulder slipped free. Asher wasted zero time in hooking his thumb under the tiny arm and continuing his steady, gentle tug.

A rather disgusting squelch accompanied the pup as it slid onto the duvet. The remains of the membrane bunched around its feet as Asher scooped it into his hands. The body was grey and limp, and all three heartbeats stalled.

"What's wrong?!" Fawn cried. "What's wrong with it?!" She reached for her baby on instinct, but Newt held her back.

"It's okay!" he said, adjusting himself to block her veiw of Asher and the baby. "It's okay, I swear! Asher's taking care of it."

Newt stroked her sweaty face with the back of his hand, doing anything he could think of to soothe her. It didn't stop the tears from flooding the exhausted mother's eyes.

Behind his mate's back, Asher brought the pup's face to his lips. His mouth easily covered the nose and mouth of the newborn, and he gently sucked the sour-tasting fluid out of its airway. Asher spit the gunk into his sleeve and repeated the action, rubbing his thumb against the baby's chest as he did.

It was a process that lasted less than twenty seconds, but to all three werewolves it felt like eternity. But eternity ended when the pup sucked in a deep, squeaking breath. The sound of its first cry was shrill, but to the trio it sounded like singing.

Asher couldn't help but start crying as the little body he'd resurrected wiggled to life in his hands. "Here he is!" he said, voice wavering with joyful tears.

Newt sat back immediately, allowing Fawn to see the baby alive and well in Asher's arms.

"Here's our boy!" Asher announced, laying the crying baby over his mother's heart.

Through the haze of her tears, Fawn looked over every detail of her little boy. She saw the layer of damp fuzz covering his skin, the points on his pink, folded-over ears, and the coating of protective skin over his miniscule claws. She thanked whatever power was out there for that last detail, because such tiny needles would've been horrible to feel coming out.

"Sweetheart," she told the baby, wrapping her arms around him, "don't make a habit outta scaring me like that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Is he already nursing again?" Newt asked as he placed the glass of water on the nightstand.

"He eats like a horse," Fawn chuckled, adjusting the nursing pillow under her baby. Jacob was the name she had settled on.

The sun was coming up now, filling her bedroom with a soft white light. Asher was on the floor, disassembling the nesting tent. It would be taken out again in a few months for Newt to use, but the Alpha was determined to Tetris the pieces correctly into their box.

Jacob was an aggressive nurser. Three hours old and this was his third time demanding his mother's milk. Newt and Asher insisted such an appetite was normal for a larger werewolf pup, but Fawn wasn't too thrilled to learn she was going to get even less sleep than she anticipated with a new baby.

Fawn quickly drained the glass of water. She wasn't sure if she would ever feel not-thirsty again. "So, Newt," she said, "I didn't scare you into wanting a C-section, did I?"

"Nah, not at all." Newt laid down on the bed beside Fawn, propping himself against the Squishmallow pile. "If you could get him out, I'm pretty sure I'll be okay."

Newt pet the thin strands of hair on Jacob's head. The newborn swiped a clumsy, mitten-covered fist over his head with a teeny-tiny growl. All three adults stopped and stared.

"Was that him?!" Asher asked from the floor.

"Yeah . . ." Newt said, withdrawing his hand. "He's very protective of his food."

Asher almost fell over laughing. "That's Alpha behavior if I've ever seen it!"

"How do you guys even determine that stuff?" Fawn asked. "Is it a sex thing?"

"Eh, a bit," Newt shrugged, "but it's also a personality thing." He tickled the folded tip of Jacob's soft ear, and got the same response as before.

"Ow!" Fawn jerked as her son bit down on her breast. "Stop annoying him, or I'm biting you, too!"

"Sorry," Newt chuckled.

"I can't thank you boys enough for this," Fawn said. "This werewolf shit is all sorts of weird for me, and . . . now I know for certain that Jacob wouldn't have been alright if you weren't with me."

"That's what packs do," Asher said, re-folding a segment of nylon tarp. "We look out for each other."

"Do we even . . . " Fawn stopped herself mid-sentence and looked away.

Newt grinned and touched his forehead to Fawn's temple. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Fawn grinned in return and rubbed her cheek against his hair, leaving her scent on his skin.

[surrogate-fawn]

'The Surrogate's Journey' Series Now on AO3!

Because there was so much interest in having the series be organized on Ao3 as well as on Tumblr, here it is!

Co-created/illustrated by @mittysins and inspired by the universe we built for our OCs to live in, may I introduce the official series:

"The Surrogate's Journey"

The series will be a collection of complete drabbles that, when read in order, tell the story Mitty and I created during a rp and it will feature both of our OCs by the time it's completed.

Hopefully this is a convenient way some of you can follow the series as it continues, and not have to worry about catching the post on the chaos that is a Tumblr dashboard. All you have to do is follow the series on AO3, and you'll receive email updates when the next part is added!

Both registered users and guests are welcome to leave comments! Feedback is highly appreciated, and both Mitty and I will be sure to see it! <3

Enjoy!

Portrait of Fawn by @mittysins

[surrogate-fawn]

Asks are now open!

Mun is an idiot and didn't realize asks were turned off for this blog.

-_-

Anyway, now feel free to send asks! Prompts, questions, almost anything is welcome!

[surrogate-fawn]

Harvest Day (Farmer AU Drabble)

((Based on an emoji prompt list I received from an anon on my old blog. The prompt happened to be so similar to a Farmer AU being brainstormed between @mittysins and I for our OCs, that I decided to make it a drabble set in that universe. This drabble will feature his OC, Newt, because he inhabits this AU alongside Fawn.))

Prompt: "🤰🏽 1️⃣ 🚜 🛑 👖" [Female, Singleton, Farm, Birth Denial, Clothing Birth]

Disclaimer: The birth denial in this fic is in no way sadistic or forceful. If that's what you're looking for, please move along. I do not write sadism.

TW: Mentions of parental death, themes of self-loathing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fawn shivered as soon as she opened the kitchen door. She watched the clouds of her breath float through the screen door to meet the porch light shining overhead. The chunky black-and-white barn cat ran to the door and rubbed against her legs with a deep meow, thinking he was about to be let out.

"No, Moo," Fawn chided, nudging him away with her boot. "It's too cold out. You'd freeze your flops off."

Moo squinted up at her, as if questioning her authority. He sniffed the screen door, sneezed, and quietly padded back into the dark.

Fawn chuckled and slipped her heavy tin cloth jacket over the two flannel shirts she already had on. The zipper slowed to a crawl as she pulled it over the large curve of her belly. Although oversized, the jacket was clearly designed for men who didn't have to worry about getting pregnant.

With a grunt of effort, Fawn managed to zip herself up. She pulled on her work gloves, grabbed her thermos of black decaf coffee, and stepped outside. She would normally let the door slam shut behind her, but she'd gotten out of that habit ever since her farmhand had his baby. They were still asleep upstairs in the guest room, so Fawn made sure to lock the door behind her -- a new habit that started only after they'd come along.

Fawn stretched out her aching back one last time before waddling off in the direction of the barn. It was three in the morning, two hours earlier than she was used to starting her day, but she didn't have much of a choice. According to the forecast, she had about twenty-four hours to harvest every field before an early frost set in.

"Mmm," Fawn hummed at the back of her throat, pausing for a few seconds to press her hands into the splays of her hips as another contraction started.

She forced herself to keep walking, despite the pain starting to spread into her lower back. All night long, those damn cramps had been keeping her awake. Before that, they'd been annoying her the entire day; but it wasn't until they started ramping up around midnight that Fawn realized they weren't just Hicks this time. Labor hadn't taken her by surprise, her due date being just two days out, but it hadn't left her with a lot of energy for this emergency harvest.

Jesus Christ, this was going to be a long day.

After four hours of mucking stalls and hauling fresh hay into the barn for her livestock -- well, they were more pets than livestock -- Fawn made her way to the hanger shed. Climbing into the combine harvester was now an Olympic event, especially when a contraction came on so strong it made her legs cramp halfway up the ladder. When Fawn finally made it into the driver's seat, she let out a loud, frustrated sigh and rested her hands over the swell of her belly.

"Makin' this hard on me, huh?" she asked her baby. She sat up and threw the key into the ignition, turning on the behemoth of a machine with a roar of diesel. "Gotta try harder than that, kid. Your mama ain't a quitter. She's got work to do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the sun was starting to rise over the horizon, Fawn was less than halfway through harvesting Field One, the sugar beets. Her gloves had the steering wheel in a vice grip as she pressed her back into the seat. She felt her belly cramping hard beneath the layers of flannel and cotton, the pain coiling down her legs and even into the back of her shoulders.

Puffs of white steam came from her mouth as she panted her way through the pain, her eyes focused only on the row of beets in front of her as she kept the machine steady on its path. One row at a time, that's what she had to focus on. Each row she finished, was one row saved from the frost. Just one row at a time.

Fawn puffed out the rest of her breath and slumped forward as her body relaxed and the pain faded. She had to keep going. There was no time to rest.

She twisted open the lid of her thermos and chugged the last of the coffee. If she couldn't rest, she had to keep her energy up. She'd been present in the room when her farmhand gave birth, and she knew she was gonna need as much energy as possible.

There was a short pause after Fawn sat the empty thermos back in the cupholder. Then, the horn of the combine blasted out a short 'HAUNK' as Fawn smashed her fist into the steering wheel.

"Goddamn it," she sobbed, her gloved hand covering her mouth. "Goddamn it."

She'd put herself in this situation, and she hated herself for it. Even after she saw the guts and gore of childbirth with her own eyes, that hadn't stopped her from going back to her regular haunt a month later:

The backwater farming town she'd called home all her life had the only bar available for miles, and it drew flies like a dead mule on the side of the highway. Drifters, hitchhikers, homeless folk, all flavors of traveler came through those doors; but the one Fawn was drawn to was the one that came around the most often: truckers. They were the perfect place to look when she was tipsy and needing something to play with.

The men of the open road were the easiest to persuade. Didn't matter if they had a missus back home or not, they spent days alone with nothing but their imaginations. All Fawn had to do was buy them a round of beer...or three, get just as wasted as they were, and they were more than happy to indulge in a pretty Southern redhead like herself. Those eighteen-wheelers had beds, after all.

Yeah, Fawn had been barebacking the barflies for years. She used to bring condoms with her. It didn't matter that she'd stopped buying them ever since her folks kicked the bucket. If the guy had one, then they'd use it. If not, well...the thrill of a handsome stranger pounding her raw made the grief go away for a while.

Besides, it was better than thinking about all the stress waiting for her back home.

She'd become an expert in winning Russian Roulette, dodging the bullet time and time again; but the one time she decided to let off some steam after her farmhand had to take his leave...and the bullet hit her square between the ovaries. She'd gone out to escape her responsibilities, and came home with a little extra responsibility under her belt.

Fawn let out a few more sobs into her glove -- as if anyone were around to hear her -- before drying her eyes on her sleeve and carrying on as normal. Yeah, she'd done this to herself...but there was nothing she could do about it now.

Nothing except get the job done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fawn hit the brakes hard as she gripped the edges of the seat. The combine screeched like a banshee as it came to a sudden halt in the middle of Field Five, the cabbage patch.

"Shit!" Fawn cried, her teeth clenching hard enough to make her jaw hurt. The contraction kept clamping down around her middle, harder by the second. In response, Fawn's voice became higher and louder with each iteration of: "Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!"

And that was when the two-way radio crackled to life:

"Come in, Fawn. Come in. This is Newt at Home Base. Over."

Fawn glared at the radio nestled in her dashboard for a few seconds, then squeezed her eyes shut and snatched it up.

"Copy that, Newt. This is Fawn. I'm in the combine at Field Five. Over."

She'd told Newt, her farmhand, that he could sit out the harvest that year so he could care for his ten-month-old daughter. He'd been a hard worker since he showed up the year prior, three months pregnant with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He was from up North, way up North. How he'd made it all the way to the deep South -- or why, for that matter -- she had no idea, especially when he had nothing but a joint and a five-dollar bill in his wallet when he showed up at her door looking for a job.

He was an odd little fella, but she liked that about him.

"Copy that. Just checking on you. Sophie woke up, so I'm making us breakfast. Want me to bring you something? Over."

"Gah!" Fawn practically yelled in relief when the contraction finally let up. She draped herself over the steering wheel, panting to catch her breath. Her free hand tried to massage the tight muscles of her belly through the layers of clothing, but it wasn't helping.

When she felt like she could breathe again, she clicked the radio on and brought it to her mouth:

"Negative on that, beanpole," she said, forehead still resting on the wheel. "I gotta get this finished 'fore nightfall. Just make enough for you and the gherkin. Over."

Fawn let up on the breaks, allowing the harvester to groan to a slow forward roll again.

"It's noon," Newt's voice crackled back at her. "There's time for you to eat." There was a pause, but he hadn't said 'over' so Fawn waited. "Don't push yourself out there. Over."

"I won't," Fawn said, her teeth clacking with how hard she annunciated the 't'. "Over."

Fawn slammed the radio back in its holster. She wasn't angry at Newt, she was angry at herself. He was just being the good friend he was. She'd gladly stop to eat if she could. Newt could make a damn good ham and cheese omelette, and in no other circumstance would she pass one of those up!

The baby stretched its feet deep inside her ribs, causing Fawn to wince. "Ah! Fuck, kid!" she hissed, both her hands flying to the upper curve of her belly in a useless attempt to fix the situation.

The wheel turned without her control and the harvester listed to the right. Fawn gasped as she felt her produce grinding under the massive tires.

"Shit!" She jerked the wheel back to the left, but she could see several feet of destroyed cabbage in her rearview mirror. She punched the dashboard, her knuckles exploding with pain that she was too angry to care about. "Goddamn it!"

Tears were stinging her eyes, but Fawn clenched her jaw and blinked them away. "I'm doin' this for you, kid!" she scolded her unborn. "I'm doin' this for all of you, 'kay? I can do this, you just gotta let me!"

Not too long ago, Fawn had only needed enough money from her harvests to support herself and her animals. It was stressful to do on her own, but it was doable. Now, she had two -- soon to be three -- other people to provide for. If this harvest failed...she wasn't sure where that money was going to come from.

Fawn almost hit the brakes again when another contraction snuck up on her. A sob came from her mouth as she clenched both hands around the wheel.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself. "I can fuckin' do this!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fawn grabbed the radio as soon as she heard the static buzz of Newt coming on-air.

"I'm fine!" she insisted, ignoring two-way etiquette. "Just let me work!"

"No!" Newt shot back. "You've been out there all day. You haven't eaten, and that's not good for you. What's not good for you isn't good for the baby, either. Don't push yourself!"

"Ugh, please don't say 'push'," Fawn moaned, making sure the radio was off before she said it.

Despite the cold autumn air, her face was shining with sweat. In her mind's eye, she could see the wide mass of her baby's head inching its way through her cervix, and she was almost nauseous from the effort it took to hold it back.

She was in the middle of harvesting Field Ten, and she was hunched as far to the edge of her seat as she could be. The baby's head was causing a heavy pressure to nestle deep inside her hips, and it was now so low that it was painful to sit on. So, Fawn was driving at an awkward angle, with her hips angled off the seat as much as possible.

"Ohh, God..." Fawn whimpered as another contraction began, not too far off the heels of the last one. She had no choice but to slam the harvester in park so she could brace through it. She lifted herself off the seat as the pressure worsened, and she couldn't help but let out a loud groan.

Her labia throbbed with every beat of her heart, and she blew long breaths through pursed lips to distract herself from the nagging urge starting to build. She wanted to listen to what the pressure was telling her to do. She wanted to just give in and...

"Easy, girl. Easy," she reminded herself aloud, the words being carried on her drawn-out breaths. "Just don't think about it. Don't think about it. Don't think about it."

"Hello? Fawn? Are you there?" Newt asked over the radio. "Fawn, come in."

Out of reflex, Fawn took up the radio and clicked it on. "I'm here," she said, not caring how off her voice sounded.

She took a breath to say more, but her hand clamped hard around the radio as the contraction forced her baby ever lower into her hips. She felt the thin ring of her cervix giving way. The full mass of the head slipped into her birth canal with one forceful press of her womb, and Fawn could feel lower lips starting to bulge out from the weight now sitting behind them.

"Aughh, fuck!" a grunting yell left her throat, and she forced her thighs together as the pounding urge to push washed over her.

"Fawn?!" Newt's frantic voice crackled over the radio waves. "What's wrong?!"

Fawn threw her head back into the seat, unable to speak -- only able to pant and growl through the pain and pressure.

"Fawn!" Newt yelled over the radio, now sounding panicked. "Where. Are. You?!"

The contraction had mercy and uncoiled itself from around her limbs and torso. Finally able to speak, she brought the radio to her mouth:

"Field Ten. Baby's coming. Hurry." Fawn let her hand fall to the side as she rested, before lifting it again to conclude her message: "Over."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fawn dropped to her knees the second she reached the ground. The combine loomed over her, shading her from the white November sun. She'd turned it off, finally accepting her failure. There were still ten more fields left untouched, and they all would be worthless by the next morning.

She removed her work gloves with her teeth, letting them fall to the upturned soil of the field. She removed her jacket next, and the cold air met the wet flannel that was plastered to her back with sweat.

"Ughh!" Fawn braced her hands on her knees as another contraction wrung her insides, forcing everything down and out. "Don't push," she whispered to herself. "Don't push!"

It was hard. It was like holding her breath. Every muscle in her body was demanding this baby out, like air-starved lungs demanding air in. She could feel her lips bulging out with each millimeter the head dropped down -- the thick seam in the crotch of her maternity jeans becoming unbearably tight. Any attempt to close her legs was now out of the question.

Fawn tipped forward, her hips raising a bit further into the air as her hands dug into the cold soil. "Don't push," she repeated her mantra in her mind. "Don't push. Don't push. Just wait for Newt. Don't-!"

Gush! A hot rush of water ran down her inner thighs, soaking her jeans through. The urge to push became all-consuming.

"Shit!" Fawn growled, her eyes squeezing shut and her hands sinking further into the dirt as her body no longer gave her the option to hold back. Her hips sank closer to the ground as she bore down hard, not giving a single damn that she was in the middle of her field.

She lost any sense of time, her body going on auto-pilot and her mind falling into an almost-pleasant trance with the rhythm of her labor. Contraction, push. Contraction, push. Contraction, push.

Fawn could feel her lips bulging further against her jeans as the head descended, but it didn't feel like she was crowning yet. Newt had said the burn of crowning was horrific, that there was no other pain like it. There wasn't a burn -- just a deep, pulsating ache. At least that meant she could keep her pants on while she waited.

She was vaguely aware of the sound of an approaching engine, but it wasn't until she heard a pair of feet hit the ground nearby that she looked up to see Newt sprinting towards her, the tractor a few feet away.

"Hey, beanpole," she said with a hazy, far-away grin.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Newt cried, dropping to his knees beside her. "How long have you been like...oh, fuck, your water broke!"

"Mmm-hmm," Fawn nodded, gently rocking her hips while she rested between contractions. She blinked up at the tractor, noticing it was empty. "Where's the gherkin? You didn't leave her alone, did you?"

"Don't worry, Sophie's fine," Newt said, carefully wrapping his arms around Fawn to help her stand. "She's napping on the couch, and Moo's watching her."

"Moo can't watch anything besides his food bowl," Fawn said with a small laugh.

She held her breath as Newt helped her to her feet, but her fingernails dug deep into his arms as the weight of her baby came crashing down all at once. Fawn stood with her legs far apart, and leaned heavy into her smaller farmhand as another contraction was triggered by the shift in weight.

"Oh my God, and you're already pushing..." Newt stated, his voice small with fear. He'd been in her position before, and Fawn didn't need to announce it to him. He recognized her stance and the way her body was straining.

"Yep," Fawn said with a strained voice. She gripped onto Newt's arms and dipped into a slight squat as her focus went inward.

"Fawn, why?!" Newt cried, exasperated. He hooked his arms under her shoulders and allowed her to lean on him, despite his smaller frame. "Why the hell did you do this to yourself?!"

Fawn didn't answer. Her dirt-covered hands left smears on his jacket as she gripped him harder to push. Gravity sent her baby surging downward, and the realization that she wasn't going to leave that field without a baby dawned on her.

It wasn't a panic-inducing realization, like it should've been. Instead, it was rather peaceful. She had been fighting the flow of her labor for over a day. Finally letting it happen -- finally giving into her body's needs -- felt amazing, even if it hurt.

With a shudder, Fawn covered the bulging crotch of her jeans with her hand. She could feel a hard mass sitting just behind her skin, and gravity was pulling it closer to its exit. She knew it was go-time, even without seeing it for herself.

"Newt, help me outta these," she said, one hand tugging on her waistband and her other holding onto him for support. "It's comin' right now."

"Okay...okay..." he said, his voice shaking a little. He began helping her shimmy out of her pants, apparently having also accepted they weren't going back to the house.

Although Fawn wasn't fully aware of the world around her, she was aware of Newt slipping off his sherpa jacket and tossing it in the shade of the combine.

"Over here. Kneel on this," he said, easing her down over the discarded jacket.

The sherpa fabric was soft on her bare hands and knees, still warm from Newt's body heat. It was better than kneeling on the icy ground. The cold air still made her shiver when it blew against the dampness clinging to her legs, but her laboring body was enough of a furnace to make her sweat.

Fawn's arms trembled with her next push, her legs opening as far as they could go while still supporting her weight. She felt the fire ignite in her perineum as soon as the head started spreading it open, pulling her lips into a tight teardrop shape.

"Fuck, there's that burn!" Fawn growled as she caught her breath, before bowing her head to go in for another push.

Newt crouched at her side and rubbed his hands into her lower back, the same technique Fawn had done to help him through his own labor ten months prior.

"Yep, told you it would," he half-chuckled. "Gotta push through it, though. That's the only way to make it stop."

A small whimper came from Fawn's throat, but she nodded. "Alright..." she peered over her shoulder at him, her red curls falling over her face. "Keep doin' that. It helps."

"You got it," Newt said with an attempted grin. "I owe you one."

On her hands-and-knees, Fawn fought to bring her baby out for several more minutes. The head was large and stubborn, taking a while to open from the teardrop shape into a proper circular crown.

"That's it!" Newt praised, raising his voice as Fawn screeched from the worsening burn of crowning. "You're really starting to bring their head out, now."

"How did you make this look so easy?!" Fawn cried, a few tears collecting on her eyelashes as she squeezed her eyes shut again.

"It wasn't easy," Newt said.

"Yeah, bullshit! You're half my size, and you did this like it weren't nothin'!"

She'd sat there next to Newt during most of his labor, and he'd hardly made a sound as Sophia slipped out of him into the midwife's hands. Back then, she figured the pain was mostly bearable once it came to pushing. She'd been floored when he later told her how badly the crowning stage had hurt.

Speaking of.

"Uugh!" Fawn released a loud, gutteral scream as more of the head pressed out of her. "How far is it out?!" She dipped a hand between her legs to feel, but Newt grabbed her wrist before she could reach.

"Don't touch it! Your hands are covered in dirt," he warned. He dropped her hand and it fell limp to the jacket.

Fawn heard fabric rustling and she looked over to see Newt pulling off his shirt. Now dressed in only sweatpants and a binder, he carefully pulled her up into a half-squat and held his discarded shirt between her legs.

"Here," he said, guiding her hand to hold the shirt in place. "It's clean."

"You don't mind?" Fawn asked, bracing her free hand against his shoulder.

"Nope," he said, giving her shoulder a supportive squeeze. "Baby's more important than a shirt right now."

Fawn gratefully accepted her friend's support, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she grunted her way through the next big push. She felt the crown stretch wider under her hand, thankful the shirt was thin enough to allow her to feel her progress.

The shadow of the combine was several feet longer by the time Fawn managed to bring the head into a full crown. Her face was red and sweating profusely despite the chilly air. Newt's shirt was now soaked in blood and fluid as it covered Fawn's hand, the head of her baby half-born into it.

Fawn's foot pressed harder into the jacket below her, a low moan rattling in her lungs as another push moved the head out more. Her voice was hoarse, and her energy was dwindling -- the coffee had worn off and she'd had nothing to eat for a whole day. Newt was right, but she would let him gloat about it later.

"Mmm!" she hummed in a high-pitched moan, her forehead resting against Newt's shoulder. The widest part of the head made its way through, and her legs shook violently. "Gah-aughhh! Fuck, it burns!"

"I know. Just keep going," Newt urged her along. He might not have been able to see what was going on from his angle, but he could tell from the sounds she was making that she had to be close. "Gotta push through it, remember?"

"I am!"

Fawn's whole body trembled from effort, her breath hitching as she felt the baby's brow and eyes make their way through. She shifted her weight and brought her other hand down to cradle the head as she felt it felt it slip out up to the chin.

"Head's out..." she said with a deep, eternally relieved sigh.

The intense burn was gone for the time being, but Fawn suspected the hot liquid she felt seeping into the shirt was blood. She could find out later, her eyes were still closed with concentration. She adjusted her gentle hold on the head dangling beneath her, and she felt the features of a face through the fabric of the shirt.

Wait...that was her baby. That was her baby's face!

Fawn gasped, her eyes fluttering open as the reality of the situation met her like a brick to the face. "Oh my God, the head's out!"

"Yeah, I see that," Newt chuckled, tilting his head to see between her legs. "You got this, Fawn. If I could do this, you sure as hell can do this."

Fawn's breath came out hot and heavy as she waited for the signal to push. Never in a million years did she think she would become a mom like this: pushing out a total stranger's baby in the middle of her own crops. At least laboring in a field was something she was familiar with...even if it wasn't quite like this.

Her hips dipped down again as she felt the baby rotate towards her thigh, the movement triggering an incredibly strong urge to push.

"Ohh..." Fawn moaned into Newt's neck, keeping her voice low so her energy could go where it needed. She thought she felt him shiver.

Her lips stretched wide around an emerging shoulder, and her body locked up from the pain. Her jaw hung open in a silent scream, her lungs closed.

"Don't stop now!" Newt said, his hand petting Fawn's upper arm. "Keep going until they're out!"

Fawn's lungs opened just enough for her to let out a strangled: "Owww!" as the first shoulder peeled its way through.

A quick series of shallow pushes eased the second shoulder along until Fawn felt it starting to poke out. Then in one sudden, unexpected gush, her baby dropped into her hands.

"Holy...!" Fawn gasped as she lifted the tiny pale human up to her belly. "Holy shit!"

The newborn let out a wail loud enough to echo across the field. Steam wafted from its slick body, and Fawn held it against her body in an attempt to keep it away from the cold.

"Here, lemmie help." Newt said.

He helped Fawn nestle the baby beneath her two flannel shirts to keep it warm, until its tiny face was visible just under her collar. He assisted Fawn to her feet and onto the tractor a few steps away, leaving any discarded clothing items behind. Now that the baby was out, he had to get everyone home as quickly as possible.

Newt drove in the direction of the house at a blazing twenty-five miles per hour, while Fawn sat in the passenger seat in a daze. She blinked down at the puffy, squalling face peeking out from under her shirts. Everything felt numb.

"Congrats," Newt said with a nervous laugh. "She's a girl."

"She is?" Fawn asked, feeling detached from her body.

"She is."

"Oh. Didn't see."

Fawn cradled the curve of her daughter's body under her clothes, feeling her small legs wiggling against her softened belly. It was odd, feeling her kick from the outside.

"You're a 'lil butterball, ain't 'ya?" she asked the baby. "Got those big round cheeks."

Newt glanced over with a grin. "If Sophie was a six-pounder, I'd say your little girl's about a nine."

"She's a trucker's girl, that's for sure." It was supposed to be a joke, but Fawn couldn't muster the strength for sarcasm. Instead, the truth sank in: "And it's my fault she'll never know which one."

The pair was quiet for a while, with only the engine running between them.

"That's okay, though," Newt offered. "She has you."

"But I'm not ready!" Fawn cried, wanting to sob but too tired to do so. "I just lost half the harvest, Newt! How the hell am I gonna feed all of 'ya?!"

"Hey, don't worry about me and Sophie" Newt said. "Sophie's got plenty of baby mush, and I don't eat a lot anyway. We'll be fine."

"I chose to take 'ya in, so it's my job to provide for 'ya," Fawn said. She held tighter to her daughter as the tractor drove over a small bump. "I just...don't know how to do it alone. None of 'ya were part of the plan. Not at first, anyway."

God, what had she gotten herself into?

To her surprise, Newt began to laugh. "Haha! Fawn, you're looking at the king of 'not part of the plan'. You think I dreamed of hitchhiking my way down here while broke and knocked up? No. It just turned out that way, and it all turned out fine."

Newt pulled the tractor up to the house and jumped out to help Fawn in the door. Before she knew it, Fawn was relaxing with her baby in a warm bath. She carefully washed the blood and gunk from her daughter's skin and allowed the water to catch any excess fluids that leaked from her body in the aftermath of the birth.

Meanwhile, her farmhand was flitting in and out of the bathroom, setting out towels and clean clothes for both herself and the baby -- as well as taking out the trash bag that now held the afterbirth. He was such an amazing friend, and Fawn was embarrassed at how little she felt she deserved his kindness.

She hadn't said a word for almost an hour, silently mulling over what Newt had said.

"Hey, Newt?" she asked when he stopped by with a cup of iced water for her. "Do you really think I can do this on my own?"

Newt smiled down at her and the baby. "Honestly? No."

Fawn's heart sank.

"But!" Newt added quickly, "I can't do this 'baby' thing alone, either! I've always had you there for me. Now, I'm here for you, too."

Fawn returned his smile, lovingly stroking her daughter's soft dark hair. "Thanks, beanpole."

"Just, uh..." Newt rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't pull a stupid stunt like that again, okay?"

"I don't intend to do anything like that again. Don't you worry 'bout that," Fawn chuckled. "Cece here is more than enough for me."

"I feel you there," Newt laughed. "Sophie's my one-and-done, too."

Little did either of them know. On that failed harvest day, some little seeds had been sown on that small Southern farm -- seeds that would grow into something beautiful over the years. Seeds that would eventually become a family tree.

[surrogate-fawn]

Mpreg sketch adopt up for grabs!! Looking for $35 or best offer im in the negative OTL. Fcfs HMU!

[surrogate-fawn]

Lady Dahlia :3

[surrogate-fawn]

what about your happy ending?

-

in which audrey helps revoke junkyu's infertility so that he can be a surrogate just once and fulfill a long lost dream... eve (she/her) and chuntao (they/them) his partners are there to hold his hands, and ivan (he/they) is there to catch!

[surrogate-fawn]

It all starts with the moment he enters between my spread legs - my blossoming pussy welcoming his raw, hard cock, enticing him deeper with every stroke, pushing himself further inside, through my tight, breedable hips until the head of his cock is slamming against my cushy, waiting cervix. The thought of filling me is enough to drive him to climax, and with the last thrusts he buries his cock as deep as it'll go as he delivers his seed straight into my belly. As he collapses in ecstasy, I feel it seep steadily into my waiting, fertile womb - there's no turning back now. His seed has been planted, and as we lay in eachothers arms, a new life begins to sprout inside me.

[surrogate-fawn]

A mech pilot giving birth in the cockpit. Nestled right inside the mechanics, form fitted to your body. The metal constricts your swollen stomach and prevents any real progress from being made as your cunt bulges. The mech itself thrashing and taking the position you wish you could be in as you’re strapped inside your own metal coffin giving birth.

[surrogate-fawn]

Ladies and gentlemen, ✨ her ✨

Vivian is shipped with @mittysins 's OC Wesley!

[surrogate-fawn]

Happy Pride Month fuckos!!!

[surrogate-fawn]

Health Update:

It took 7 months but I finally had a period! Yay! Hopefully it doesn't happen again.

[surrogate-fawn]

I may have messed up a bit; been dealing with a lot so managed to totally space on getting my birth control and didnt register it until my alarm to take it went off. Since my periods are already irregular and coming off the pill can make you ovulate straight away I'm worried that i might get pregnant, since my partner and i didnt use any other bc since i was going to rake my usual one later; a tony part of my brain is loving the fantasy of it actually happening and im just trying to avoid the possible reality right now lol

Been there! Lol I don't trust myself with relying on the pill so I went off it around November of last year. We had a condom incident and bought Plan B the next morning -- but yeah, a small part of me wanted to not buy Plan B and let nature take its course. But thank god my rational brain is able to beat my horny brain back with a rolled-up magazine. I'd say take a Plan B if you think you're at risk, and *PLEASE* if you are not wanting to get pregnant *PLEASE* double-up on birth control!!!

Even when I WAS on the pill, we used condoms as a back-up measure for the sake of making sure. Even now, we use condoms and spermicide to double the protection. Neither Buck nor I rely on just one type of birth control because doubling up makes us feel safer.

And this is WITH my ovulation being irregular. Meaning my chances of falling pregnant on accident is lower than the average person. :(

[surrogate-fawn]

459.2. request: A man stuck at home during quarantine, is using a telescope to spy on people in a neighboring apartment building. Looking in one window he sees a beautiful woman clearly in labor. Growing more and more aroused, he watches her labor, then struggle to birth her large baby all by herself. Picturing himself getting her pregnant with more babies, helping her birth them.

A Original valiantremnant story

Pre-story notes: This is a bit out of my wheelhouse, but I decided to give it a go from the perspective of someone other than the pregnant woman. That said, I do not condone the behavior of the main character in this story.

Through the Spy Glass

Quarantine does odd things to someone who's bored. Aaron had rearranged his small apartment already. Twice. He was pretty sure if he did it again, his downstairs neighbor might actually put a broom through their ceiling and his floor with how hard they would pound it in protest to the noise. When it had first started, he was alright with the idea, a couple of weeks off, no biggie. But as a couple of weeks turned into a few, which turned into some, which turned into a bunch... Aaron had played every game on his 'to-play' list until his thumbs cramped at the idea of picking up a controller. He'd scoured the internet until he felt like he'd hit the bottom. So, he'd looked up.

His uncle had died shortly before the pandemic had shut the world down, and he'd left Aaron something they had shared, a large, brass telescope. As a child, Aaron had loved watching the stars, but had sadly fallen out of taking time to simply wonder at the heavens and celestial bodies that revealed themselves at night. With a shrug, Aaron brought out the box that held the old device and set it up, pointing it at the sky... only to sigh with disgust. Light pollution. He'd have to drive for hours to get clear of enough of the wash to see much of anything. Sighing, he aimed it down at the sidewalk.

"Heh. Nature reclaims us all, doesn't it?"

Nature in this case, was a fat pigeon waddling and pecking at a bagel that had been set on top of a garbage can rather than in it. Panning the device around, he found a multipurpose building and smiled, pulling out his cellphone and calling a number on it. On the second ring, his friend picked up.

"Hey man, what's up?"

"Rick, you said you worked in that glass building across from mine, right?"

"Uhhh, yeah, sure, why?"

"Stand up, I wanna see where you are."

"What the fuck?"

"Look, remember my uncle died and left me that telescope?"

"What does... oohhh, neat. Ok, hold on."

As Aaron watched, a figure stood up and waved it's arms.

"Hey, I see you."

"Cool. Look, just be careful man. I don't want other people in the building to call the cops about a peeping tom."

"Well, can you even see me from where you are?"

"I guess not."

"So there's no problem then."

"I guess..." Rick trailed off, then swore, "Shit, boss is coming, uh, see you at some point. Y'know, if this ever ends."

Rick hung up, leaving Aaron alone. Aaron sighed too and sat back, looking up at the ceiling. He fell asleep like that after a while, staring at nothing....

With a start, Aaron woke up, and groaned at the lancing pain in his neck from sleeping like that. He rolled his head, cracking the stressed joints and sighed in relief as they popped one by one. Shaking his head, he looked at the time. When he had called his friend, it had been about 7:00 in the evening, now it was 10:00, and much, much darker. He stood up and cracked his back, and was about to head to bed when he noticed that in Rick's building, there was a single light on. Smiling, he took the telescope and swung it until he was aimed right at it. If nothing else, he could peep at what other people were watching.

The building was multi purpose. The bottom ten floors were rented out to various businesses, and the upper ones were fancy apartments with large glass walls that offered sweeping views of the city. The light was on in one of these apartments. He peered around, but didn't see a tv that was on or anything. Just a woman sitting. A very pretty woman. From where he was, through the scope, he could see that she was blonde, had long legs, and was probably tall, but that was hard to gauge given the distance and the fact that she was sitting angled slightly away from him. The other thing he noticed that made him flush, was that she was only wearing a bra as far as he could tell. He was about to step away when he saw her double over. Tilting his head, he wondered what was up.

"Are you alright?" He wondered aloud, and adjusted the telescope, zooming in and adjusting the focus slightly. With a better view, he could see that her face, though pretty, was screwed up in intense pain. She stayed like that for a while, but eventually, and slowly, she straightened back up and stood up, rubbing... "Holy shit... Whoa!" The woman was pregnant. Hugely so. She was rubbing her massively swollen belly as she waddled back and forth in the luxury apartment. Eventually, he was able to break his gaze from her and shake his head clear. It was one thing he had never told anyone. He absolutely loved pregnancy. Every aspect. Every soft, filled out curve filled his dreams. But the one thing that drove him mad more than anything was birth. His watch history was filled with birth vlogs and the like, and some days he found it impossible to finish without hearing and watching a pregnant woman writhing and screaming as her own body fought itself.

He knew this was too good to be true, a hallucination. Aaron walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, and splashed his face. His face still damp, he returned to the chair and put his eye back to the scope, and there she was, in all her real, pregnant, and, hopefully, laboring glory. "Oh, you're definitely in labor." Aaron muttered to himself as she leaned over the back of her couch , her hips swaying. He obviously couldn't hear her, but if her locked open jaw and the redness of her face was anything to judge by, she was screaming in agony.

"Now, be a good girl and stay there for me?" He mused, hoping that she would remain in her apartment for this birth. With the world essentially on lockdown, he knew that many women were choosing to have homebirths. Hopefully, this woman was one of them. He watched her sway in place, leaning over the couch for a handful of contractions before she moved on from that position. She sat back in the chair, much to Aaron's disappointment. He couldn't see her when she was sitting there. He couldn't see what she was doing, but her arm was flexing and moving as if she was... "Oh, no way, no WAY!" He clamped his mouth shut. Aaron lived alone, but he figured that it being the middle of the night, he should be quiet. But what he had seen was one of the best things he could have hoped for. Was this unknown laboring woman, masturbating? Was she touching herself to relieve the pain of birth? He looked back through the lens and watched as she kept up her wriggling and shaking before she pulled her hand back up. He was only mildly disappointed that she was already done with that, but then realized she hadn't been masturbating at all! She held up her still dripping hand and held it up to examine. She was checking to see how dilated she was!

"Ooh, okay, now how far are you? Dang, it's hard to tell at this distance." Aaron fantasized about being in the room with the woman, holding her, rubbing her belly, listening to her moans and screams, smelling the thick scents of labor... But, here he was, a full block away, just watching. Her fingers were spread pretty far apart though, so there was a good chance she was pretty far dilated, if not all the way. But probably not as the woman flopped her head back, looking exhausted and exasperated. Aaron shook his head. "Oh come on, you can do it, women do this every day."

It was as if she heard him. She stood up and began pacing again, leaning back over the couch, but now, she did something else too. She would, with one hand supporting her by holding the couch, and the other hand pressed under her belly, she would lower herself into a deep squat, and she would slowly, clearly with a lot of effort, raise herself up again. Aaron watched her move and wait out her cervix for the next hour. Over the course of that hour, he had seen no one come or go from the apartment, not a partner, not a midwife, not even a pet. She was, as far as he could tell , completely alone while she labored. Surely she should have called for someone by now? If she wasn't fully dilated, she had to be close? Was she going to give birth alone? Mostly unseen? She stopped her moving and squatting and returned to the chair, checking herself again. This time, she seemed more relieved by the results, and moved to the floor.

The floor, Aaron could see, had been covered by a plastic sheet that shone in the lights of the city, which had towels strewn on top of it. They might have been laid out neatly earlier, but they had been mussed up by her pacing and squatting. She squatted again now, both hands rubbing her belly as she closed her eyes in preparation. After a minute, her belly tensed, and Aaron could see her gritting her teeth in effort, her face turning red and shaking from the effort. "Ooh, purple pushing, nice," Aaron said watching her. He was no doctor, but the amount of birth vlogs and labor stories he had watched had given him quite a wealth of knowledge to draw upon for this... private show. He knew that pushing the way she was wasn't going to be very effective. She was holding all the tension in her face, clenching too hard, and probably holding her breath. Smiling, he knew he was in for a long pushing phase.

Or rather, she was. It only took five contractions before her squatting position proved to be too tiring for her. She was semi-reclined now, still red faced and now she seemed to be constantly panting as she waited for contractions. "Oh, you're not doing yourself any favors, are you," Aaron muttered, enjoying the show. She seemed frustrated, possibly crying between contractions. Panting, she tensed up and curled around herself to push, but Aaron could see that it wasn't going to be any more successful from her last few attempts. Her legs were too close together, she was still holding the tension in her face, and he knew that while it might be more restful to be reclined like that, pushing on your back was actually a hinderance to birth. One more contraction on her back, and the woman seemed to realize this too, as she began the lumbering process of turning onto her side and getting her hands and knees under herself. Her ass and pussy pointed straight at Aaron, he watched as she rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

From behind, Aaron could only tell when the woman was having a contraction because she would either stop rocking, or at the very least slow down. His telescope was focused well enough that he could see fluid dripping from her vagina, but that was the only thing that did. It wasn't even bulging yet. He looked over his shoulder at the clock on the back of his stove. It was already 2:30, meaning that she had been pushing for about three hours now, with nothing to show for it. "Man, you are really bad at this," He said to himself, somewhat maliciously. This was shaping up to be much like his favorite birth vlogs, minus the sound of course. The mothers in those videos would push and push so hard, so desperately, only for little to no progress to be made. The vlogs where the time spent pushing was measured not by individual contractions or even by minutes, but by hours and hours. Given the complete lack of progress he could see, he assumed and hoped that she would have many more hours of pushing ahead of her.

He could well imagine it, her desperate panting, moaning, screaming and crying, the soft music she was probably playing, and the musty smell of her sweat and birthing fluids. The time was now 3:00 A.M. and he was still watching her, a handful of empty energy drink cans next to his chair. Meanwhile, the woman had eaten nothing, and had only had a few sips of water form a bottle near her. "Don't worry, I'll stay until you're done," Aaron muttered, shifting in his chair. The woman had changed positions twice in the last thirty minutes, rocking back to on her knees and then rolling onto her side, holding one leg up. He could see her belly tense up with every contraction, every push, each as beautifully helpless and useless as the last. "It's like you're not even trying, do you want to give birth or just stay like this forever?" The casual sadism in the comment sent a thrill down his spine as he watched. Aaron could only imagine what a blow to her confidence and energy such a comment would have if she could hear it.

3:30 rolled past. 4:00. 5:00. By 6:00, Aaron could finally see what the woman had possibly been feeling for a while. A small, dark sliver of head was just barely beginning to peep out of her red, swollen vagina. "There we are, just after... six and a half hours? Damn, you are really bad at this, and it's not even out yet." Aaron had hardly moved from his position since he had found the laboring woman. She on the other hand had been changing positions constantly, she had squatted again, stood up, laid back, knelt over the chair, and many more besides, but now, she was back to hands and knees. As she stopped pushing, the dark sliver of the end receded back into her vagina. He watched one of her hands flap behind her to desperately feel around her opening, but she slammed it back to the ground in front of her as she began to push again. He watch a swell of pressure seemingly roll down her tailbone as the head began it's emergence once again, the dark sliver appearing again, but again retreating once she stopped pushing.

Aaron found himself torn between rooting for her or hoping it would take longer as the war to get the baby's head out raged in the apartment. For nearly an additional thirty minutes she fought like a mad thing to get the head out, having now stood up and was leaning over the back of the chair, reach under and around her heaving belly to pull at her lips to try to make more room before the head started to stay down between pushes. The contractions must have been nearly constant now, as the head was going up and down, up and down without pause for most of that time. Her legs were stuck wide open by now, the head preventing her from moving them closed as she tried to move around, possibly to squat, or anything, but she seemed stuck, her back heaving with unheard sobs. He began to wish he was in the apartment, rubbing her back, holding her belly, possibly even helping her move to a more comfortable position while she birthed this baby.

But, he could only watch as her sobs paused while the next inevitable contraction forced her to push, her legs training to keep her upright as the head bulged out more and more... "That has to be full crown now, that's massive!" Aaron gasped to himself as he beheld the strain of her pussy. The head was huge, covered in hair and stretching the woman out considerably. The fact that she hadn't torn was incredible, and probably due to how long it had been taking her to get this far. But now it was just sitting there. Based on how the woman's belly was shaking and how the head was wiggling, she was probably sobbing from the pain. Aaron watched as she reached around to press a few fingers to her clit as she pushed again, but with no progress resulting from her effort. "This is no time to be quitting now, come on..." Aaron commented as he watched, Aware of light beginning to return to the sky.

"Well, that's not ideal." Aaron was only able to afford this apartment because the glare from the very building he was watching would reflect directly into every unit on this side of apartment complex. It was an inconvenience until about mid-morning, but it made it affordable. But today, it was more than inconvenient. It would completely prevent Aaron from watching further until damn near 11:00.

"Come on, come on, come on, come on..." Aaron urged, "You gotta finish in the next... 30 minutes." The woman, who obviously couldn't hear Aaron, did nothing to speed things up, just holding a hand to her clit and giving, in Aaron's opinion, fairly pathetic, little grunts of pushes rather than the full bore effort that would be needed to pop the head free. She gave another push, her head flopping back after as she sobbed inaudibly from a block away. Pressing her hand a bit more firmly to her clit, she rallied herself and pushed again, this time putting a little more effort into it. The head moved slightly, but not much.

Finally, as the glare was beginning to cut the show short, the head burst free with a gush of fluid, and the woman widened her stance, seemingly finally able to move her legs again, and she lumbered her way back down to the floor, getting to her knees, then rolling to her back, her spread legs exposing herself perfectly to Aaron. She reached around her body to hook her hands under her knees and hauled them back, curling up over her still heaving belly and pushing, one last time...

And with a release that Aaron felt in his own pants, the baby burst out with a second spray of fluid onto the floor of the woman's apartment. Aaron shut his curtain as he bent over himself, the post nut bliss temporarily wiping his mind blank. Groaning, he slowly stood up, wincing as his joints popped with the effort. "Well... I guess that was the greatest thing I'll ever see in my life."