whywontyoucomeout

[whywontyoucomeout]

The Prestige

(Note: This is a long story. There is kinky content near the end. Pls skip if you dont like kinky stuff).

-----------------------------------------------------

The obsidian marble beneath Valentina Castellano's heels clicked with each deliberate step as she approached the towering bronze doors of the Meridian Club. Even in the dim glow of the gas lamps that lined the underground entrance, the opulence was unmistakable—crystal chandeliers cast prismatic rainbows across walls adorned with Renaissance masterpieces that most museums could only dream of acquiring. This was no ordinary gathering place, but rather the crown jewel of the city’s shadow economy, where power brokers and kingpins conducted business away from prying eyes.

Valentina paused at the threshold, one gloved hand instinctively moving to rest against the imposing curve of her belly. The swell of her pregnancy was undeniably prominent—a perfect sphere that strained against the midnight blue silk of her gown. The fabric, despite being expertly tailored, could barely contain the fullness of her condition, and she found herself having to adjust her posture frequently to accommodate the weight that seemed to have settled low and heavy. Her empire waistline, positioned high beneath her breasts, allowed the silk to flow like liquid mercury over the impressive roundness that dominated her silhouette. Diamond earrings caught the gaslight as she tilted her head, listening to the muffled sounds of conversation and ragtime piano emanating from within.

The massive doors swung open with surprising silence, revealing two imposing figures in perfectly tailored black suits of the style fashionable in 1930. Beyond them, a steady stream of elegantly dressed guests moved through the marble-lined entrance hall, forming an orderly queue as they presented their invitations. The soft murmur of conversation mixed with the gentle shuffle of expensive shoes against polished stone.

The first guard was a mountain of a man whose scarred hands and weathered face spoke of decades navigating the city's prohibition-era violence. "Papers, ma'am," extending his hand while his eyes briefly took in her obviously expectant condition.

Valentina reached into her beaded clutch with practiced ease, allowing herself to move just a fraction slower than necessary. The guard examined her invitation thoroughly, his gaze moving between the elegant script and her face.

"Mrs. Valentina Castellano," he read aloud, then looked up with professional courtesy in his gravelly voice. “Please step up toward the security check”.

Valentina offered a gracious smile, her voice carrying the soft, refined tones of a well-bred lady. "Of course, sir. I understand completely." She shifted her weight subtly, the movement drawing attention to her considerable bulk while her free hand found the small of her back. "Please, do proceed with whatever is necessary. I only ask your patience—I find myself moving rather more slowly these days."

The weathered guard's face softened as his gaze dropped to her impressively swollen belly. Behind them, the queue of guests continued their patient procession, the soft conversations creating a backdrop of civilized anticipation.

"Naturally, ma'am. Our usual protocols require a brief security check, but given your... condition..." he began, his hand moving toward the security wand at his belt with obvious reluctance.

Valentina nodded graciously. “Sure, I understand”. Valentina answered with labored breath. She fumbled with her garments, proceeded to be examined. Viktor's expression immediately shifted to one of concern. In his twenty years of working security for the underworld's elite, he had developed an instinct for reading people, and what he saw in Valentina was genuine discomfort mixed with the quiet dignity of a woman accustomed to power. More importantly, he recognized the tactical advantage of treating the high class guests with the respect they position demanded.

"Of course, Mrs. Castellano. No need for the usual formalities tonight." He stepped aside, gesturing toward the opulent interior where the sound of string quartet music mixed with the gentle clink of crystal glasses.

The young guard behind him, however, stepped forward with the rigid determination of someone still learning the nuanced rules of their profession. "Sir," he said in a low, urgent whisper that still carried clearly in the marble-lined entrance, "Mr. Salvatore Maroni specifically mentioned that with him present tonight, every guest needs to undergo the full security protocol. No exceptions."

The older guard's jaw tightened as he turned toward his colleague. Valentina remained perfectly still, her dark eyes demurely focused on her gloved hands. "Please, don't let my condition interfere with your duties. I shall manage quite well, though I do hope you'll forgive me if I need to pause occasionally."  As if to emphasize her point, she placed a steadying hand against the doorframe, her breathing becoming just slightly more labored. The movement was so natural, so unconsciously feminine, that it seemed to happen without her awareness. Behind them, the sounds of impatience started to emit from the queue of guests.

After a moment that stretched like an eternity, the older guard made his decision. "Mrs. Castellano may proceed. Tonight's... complications don't extend to ladies in her delicate condition."

Valentina's relief was genuine, though she maintained her gracious composure. "Thank you both so very much for your consideration. I do hope this evening proves pleasant for everyone."

As she moved past them into the luxurious interior, the silk of her gown whispered against the marble floor. She navigated with the careful, swaying gait of a woman carrying considerable weight, one hand trailing along the wall for support. The bronze doors closed behind her with a soft, final sound.

Inside the Meridian Club, crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across walls lined with what appeared to be genuine Old Masters. Men in expensive suits clustered around small tables, their conversations punctuated by the clink of glasses and occasional bursts of laughter. The air was thick with cigar smoke and the sweet scent of bootleg champagne. Women in beaded gowns moved between the groups like exotic birds, their jewelry catching the light. The Meridian Club's main ballroom was a symphony of illegal opulence. Valentina moved through the gathering with the unhurried pace her condition demanded, her silk gown catching the light from chandeliers that had once graced European palaces. She accepted a glass of what appeared to be genuine French champagne from a passing waiter, though she merely held it for appearances.

"Terrible business about the warehouse fires," she overheard a distinguished gentleman saying to his companion as she paused near a marble pillar, ostensibly to rest. "Third one this month. Someone's making a statement."

His companion, a thin man with nervous hands, glanced around before responding. "Word is it's connected to the new shipping routes from Canada. Territory disputes."

Valentina shifted her weight, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. The movement was natural enough—any woman in her condition would need frequent rests—but it allowed her to linger near their conversation without appearing to eavesdrop.

"Boss is not pleased," the first man continued, lowering his voice. "Meeting tonight is specifically about consolidating control. Can't have independents thinking they can muscle in."

She moved away before they might notice her presence, drifting toward the far end of the ballroom where a small orchestra played lively jazz. Her path took her past clusters of conversations, each pause seemingly dictated by her physical needs but positioning her perfectly to catch fragments of discussion.

When she emerged from the main events room, Valentina noticed a small commotion near the back entrance. A latecomer had arrived—a woman in an elaborate emerald gown who commanded immediate attention from several guests. As people shifted to greet the newcomer, Valentina found herself with a clearer view of the elevated section.

There, in a circular arrangement of leather chairs, sat a group of men in expensive suits. Even from her distance, she could see that their conversation was intense, their postures suggesting important business. One figure sat with his back partially turned to the ballroom—a man whose mere presence seemed to create a gravitational pull in the room's social dynamics.

Valentina began making her way in that direction, her progress necessarily slow and punctuated by frequent pauses. She stopped at various points, sometimes placing a hand on a nearby chair or table as if to steady herself, sometimes engaging in brief pleasantries with other guests who expressed concern for her comfort.

She watched as various men approached the central group, some staying for extended conversations, others delivering what appeared to be brief reports before withdrawing. The pattern was clear to anyone who took the time to observe: this was where decisions were being made.

The man who had been sitting with his back to the ballroom—clearly the focal point of the entire gathering—began to turn in his chair. Conversations throughout the nearby area seemed to quiet slightly, as if by instinct.

Valentina was adjusting her position, one hand pressed to the small of her back in apparent discomfort, when their eyes met across the shortened distance.

Salvatore Maroni was younger than she had expected, perhaps forty-five, with the kind of sharp intelligence in his dark eyes that had built empires in the shadows of Prohibition. His gaze took in her condition immediately, then moved to her face with the calculating assessment of a man accustomed to reading people quickly and accurately.

For a moment that felt suspended in time, they simply looked at each other. Then the mafia boss rose from his chair with fluid grace and began walking directly toward her, his movement causing a subtle ripple of attention throughout the elevated section.

Valentina remained where she stood, one hand still pressed to her back, her expression showing nothing more than mild curiosity about the approaching stranger. 

The crystal chandeliers cast dancing shadows across the opulent ballroom as Valentina adjusted her silk gloves, one hand resting protectively over her swollen belly. The baby kicked restlessly, as if sensing the danger that surrounded them both. She forced herself to breathe slowly, steadily, as she had been trained to do.

"Mrs...?" The voice was smooth as aged whiskey, with just a hint of an accent that spoke of old country roots and new world power.

She turned, her movements carefully calculated to appear awkward with her pregnancy. " Valentina Castellano." The name rolled off her tongue as naturally as if she'd been born with it.

Salvatore “The Boss” Maroni stood before her, impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo that couldn't quite hide the predatory gleam in his dark eyes. He was smaller than she'd expected from the photographs, but there was something about his presence that filled the space around him—a quiet menace that had kept him alive and in power for over two decades.

"Ah, a fellow Italian." His smile was warm, but his eyes remained cold, calculating. "Tell me, Mrs. Valentina , how are you finding the party? The music, the champagne..." He gestured to a passing waiter carrying a silver tray. "Though I suppose you're not partaking in the latter."

"The music is lovely," she replied, allowing a slight tremor to enter her voice—the nervousness of a woman out of her depth. "Though I must admit, I feel a bit... overwhelmed. Such grandeur."

Maroni nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. "First time at one of my gatherings?"

"Yes, sir." She lowered her eyes demurely, then looked up through her lashes. "My cousin Maria—Maria Delacroix—she said I simply had to attend. That it would be good for me to get out."

"Maria, yes." His expression didn't change, but she caught the slight pause, the way his fingers drummed once against his thigh. Testing. Always testing. "Sweet girl. Married that French boy, didn't she? Against her father's wishes, if I recall."

Valentina's face clouded with what appeared to be genuine concern. "Oh, Mr. Maroni, I hope you don't think less of her for that. She was so torn up about disappointing Uncle Enzo." She twisted her wedding ring nervously. "But Jacques, he's... he's actually been wonderful for her. He converted to Catholicism, learned to make proper ragu, even started calling Uncle Enzo 'Papa' instead of his real father's name. Maria says Uncle Enzo's coming around, especially now that little Giuseppe is walking."

The detail hung in the air between them—intimate family knowledge that only someone truly connected would possess. Maroni's shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, but Valentina caught it. The first test, passed.

The baby kicked again, harder this time, and Valentina winced genuinely. The movement, the slight grimace of pain, seemed to satisfy something in Maroni 's watchful gaze.

"You seem to be managing well on your own tonight," he continued, his tone conversational but his words weighted with meaning. "Where is your husband? Surely he wouldn't let his wife attend such an event alone, especially in your... delicate condition."

This was the moment. She could feel the attention of several nearby guests subtly turning toward their conversation, though they pretended to be absorbed in their own discussions. Even the jazz quartet seemed to play more softly, as if the entire room was holding its breath.

Valentina ‘s hand tightened protectively over her belly, and she let genuine anger flash in her eyes—the fury of a betrayed woman. When she spoke, her voice carried just the right note of bitter disappointment.

"My stupid husband is probably at Rosetti's card table right now, losing the money he was supposed to save." She shook her head, looking down at her hands. "Ever since this belly started to grow big, he hasn't looked at me the same way anymore”. Deep sadness filled Valentina’s eyes. “I feel so lonely at times." 

For a moment, something almost like genuine sympathy flickered across Maroni 's features. Then his smile returned, warmer now, though no less dangerous.

"Mrs. Castellano, I think you underestimate yourself." He reached out and gently patted her arm, a gesture that might have seemed fatherly to observers. "A woman like you, who can carry herself with such dignity despite her circumstances... that takes a special kind of strength."

She felt her pulse quicken, but kept her expression puzzled, innocent. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"Of course you don't." His laugh was soft, almost fond. "Come, let me introduce you to some people. Perhaps we can find a solution to your husband's... gambling problem."

As he guided her deeper into the crowd, Valentina allowed herself the smallest exhale of relief. The first test was passed. But she knew Salvatore Maroni hadn't survived this long by trusting easily. The real challenges were just beginning.

The evening progressed like a carefully choreographed dance. Maroni  introduced her to his associates—men with hard eyes and soft handshakes, their wives dripping in jewels that caught the light like captured stars. Through it all, he remained close, his attention focused on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl even as she smiled graciously.

"You know," he said during a lull in conversation, his voice lower now, more intimate, "there's something about you, Mrs. Castellano. Something that sets you apart from these peacocks." His eyes traveled deliberately over her figure, lingering on the curve of her pregnancy before meeting her gaze again.

Valentina felt heat rise to her cheeks—part genuine discomfort, part calculated response. "Mr. Maroni, I—"

"Call me Salvatore," he corrected, stepping closer. The scent of his cologne mixed with something darker, more dangerous. "And please, don't look so shocked. Pregnancy... it brings out something primal in a woman. Something beautiful and powerful." His finger traced along her gloved wrist. "Your husband is a fool to leave such a treasure unguarded."

She allowed herself to appear flustered, her breathing quickening in a way that could be mistaken for attraction rather than the adrenaline coursing through her system. "You're very kind, but I shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't what?" His smile was predatory now, all pretense of gentlemanly behavior falling away. "Shouldn't accept a compliment? Shouldn't allow yourself to feel desired?" He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Shouldn't let a real man show you what you've been missing?"

The baby kicked hard against her ribs, and she gasped—a sound Maroni clearly interpreted as something else entirely. His hand moved to the small of her back, possessive and insistent.

"You're trembling," he murmured, and she realized with alarm that she was. Not from fear or revulsion, but from the effort of maintaining perfect control while every instinct screamed at her to act. "Come. Let me show you something private. Away from all these eyes."

Before she could protest—though her cover demanded she appear conflicted rather than resistant—he was guiding her through a side door, down a richly carpeted hallway lined with oil paintings of stern-faced men who looked like they'd killed for less than a sideways glance.

His private study was exactly what she'd expected: dark wood paneling, leather-bound books that had never been read, and a massive desk that spoke of power and intimidation. But it was the wall safe behind the portrait of his mother that made her pulse quicken for entirely different reasons.

"Much better," Maroni said, closing the door behind them with a soft click that sounded like a trap springing shut. "Now we can really get to know each other."

He moved toward her with the confidence of a man who had never been refused, never been denied. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer despite the barrier of her pregnancy.

"Maroni, sir, please," she whispered, her voice carefully breathless. "This is... this is happening so fast."

"The best things always do," he replied, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Don't think, bella. Just feel."

As his hands grew bolder, as his breathing grew heavier against her neck, Valentina’s eyes remained sharp and calculating. She catalogued every detail: the position of the safe, the weight of the letter opener on his desk, the distance to the door. Her fingers, appearing to clutch at his jacket in passion, were actually feeling for the outline of the weapon she knew he carried.

The baby kicked again, violently this time, and she cried out—a sound of genuine discomfort that Maroni mistook for something else entirely.

"That's it," he whispered roughly, his hands moving with extreme intent. "Let me take care of you the way a woman like you deserves." He immediately drew in and started kissing her and grabbing her breasts, pushing her backwards towards the bed.

In that moment, as his guard dropped completely, as his attention focused solely on his conquest, Valentina’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. The helpless, overwhelmed pregnant woman melted away, replaced by something cold and lethal.

"What the—"

Maroni 's words were cut short as Valentina  stepped back with fluid grace that seemed impossible for someone in her condition. In one swift motion, her leg swept up high, her foot connecting with his throat and pinning him against the oak-paneled wall. Her belly, swayed to the side to make room for the leg in action, hanging low and impossible big, yet did not slow her down one bit. The movement was so fast, so precise, that he barely had time to register what was happening before he found himself trapped, gasping for air.

"Shh," she whispered, her voice no longer trembling with nervous excitement but steady as steel. "Make a sound louder than a whisper, and I'll crush your windpipe before your guards can even reach the door."

Maroni 's eyes bulged with shock and terror. The predatory confidence had vanished, replaced by the dawning realization that he was prey. He tried to speak, to call out, but the pressure on his throat allowed only the faintest wheeze.

"Good," Valentina  said, her free hand moving to her swollen belly in what looked like a protective gesture but was actually something else entirely. From within the specially designed padding, she withdrew a thin, gleaming blade. "Now, Salvatore Maroni, we're going to have a very different kind of conversation."

His hands clawed at her foot, trying to relieve the pressure, but she adjusted her position with mathematical precision. Every movement was controlled, calculated. The baby bump that had made her appear vulnerable was revealing itself to be something far more tactical.

"The shipment arriving tomorrow at Pier 47," she continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "Tell me about it. The one from Mexico with Capone's blessing."

Maroni 's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She eased the pressure just enough to let him speak.

"I... I don't know what you're—"

The blade appeared at his jugular before he could finish the lie. "Wrong answer. My intelligence says otherwise. The guns, Salvatore. The new Thompson submachine guns. Where are they being distributed?"

"I… I… how?" he gasped.

"Nine seconds."

"Sweet Mary, mother of—" He tried to struggle, but her positioning was flawless, her leverage absolute. Years of training distilled into this single moment of perfect control.

"Eight."

"The warehouse!" he choked out. "The old brewery on Sullivan Street! But you'll never—"

"Distribution network?"

"Seven families." Fears fill his eyes. "How could you be prepared to be pregnant? Jesus Christ, how deep do you know?"

"Deeper than you can imagine." She pressed the blade a fraction closer. "The other families. Names."

The information poured out of him like blood from a wound—names, locations, dates, amounts. Everything the Bureau needed to dismantle his entire operation. Her mind catalogued each detail with photographic precision, storing away every revelation for the report she'd never live to file if she made even one mistake.

When he finished, gasping and shaking, she studied his face with clinical detachment.

"Please," he whispered. "I have children. Grandchildren."

"So did the families your guns killed," she replied softly. "So did the children caught in your territory wars."

"Who... who are you?" he gasped, terror peaked in his eyes.

"Someone who's been planning this conversation for a year," she replied, her voice eerily calm. "Someone who learned everything about your operation, your habits, your weaknesses. Someone who knows that your one fatal flaw is your inability to resist a pregnant woman." Her smile was razor-sharp. "Now, the Bureau sends its regards."

The word 'Bureau' hit him like a physical blow. His face went white.

"Bureau? You're... federal?"

“Doesn’t matter to you now anyway”, Valentina smiled, as she applied the pressure from her foot.

"Wait, please, I can give you more. I can—"

Valentina’s foot moved with deadly speed, finding the exact spot that would ensure silent death without struggle. Maroni 's eyes widened in surprise rather than pain, then slowly closed as his body went limp.

Valentina  lowered her leg, stepping back to survey her work. She adjusted the padding around her middle, smoothing her dress, checking her hair in the mirror above his desk. She looks at herself in the mirror, her mind racing back to that fateful night where it all began. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

9 months earlier

The case files were scattered across the kitchen table like fallen leaves, photographs of crime scenes mixing with surveillance reports and witness statements that led nowhere. Catherine Kyle rubbed her temples, trying to ease the headache that had been building for hours as she stared at the same dead ends that had plagued the Bureau for three years.

"Cat, you need to eat something." Her husband James set a plate of scrambled eggs beside her elbow, his own FBI badge catching the morning light as he leaned over to kiss the top of her head. "And maybe get some sleep. You've been at this all night."

"I can't, James. Not when we're this close." She gestured at the photos of Salvatore Maroni—grainy surveillance shots, blurry images from social events, always surrounded by his protective circle of killers. "Three years, James. Three years and sixteen dead agents. The Bureau is ready to classify him as untouchable."

James Kyle pulled out the chair beside her, his weathered face creased with concern. At thirty-five, he'd seen enough cases consuming good agents to recognize the warning signs. "Maybe they're right. Maybe it's time to try a different approach."

"What different approach?" Catherine's green eyes flashed with frustration. "We've tried everything. Undercover operations—he has them made within a week. Infiltrating his businesses—his security is too tight. Following his money—he's got judges and bankers in his pocket. The man is a ghost who happens to leave bodies in his wake."

She stood up abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked their modest apartment. At twenty-eight, Catherine Kyle was the youngest agent ever assigned to the Organized Crime Division, and the only woman. She'd fought for every case, proved herself with every arrest, but Maroni  remained her white whale.

"We've been studying him for months," she continued, her voice heavy with frustration. "His patterns, his habits, his associates. There's something there, James. Something we're missing."

James rubbed his temples, staring at the photographs and documents they'd assembled over the past year. "We've been over this a hundred times, Cat. His inner circle, his business partners, the judges and officials he's bought. We know who they are, we know what favors they owe him, but we can't prove a damn thing."

"That's just it." Catherine slumped into her chair, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. "We keep hitting the same walls. Every lead on his associates goes nowhere. The corruption network is too tight, too careful." She gestured helplessly at the surveillance photos. "Judge Kellerman, DA Morrison, City Councilman Chen—we know they're in his pocket, but they're untouchable."

"Twelve months of surveillance on his social events," James muttered, flipping through reports. "Cataloging every handshake, every conversation between Maroni and these men. And what do we have to show for it? Nothing concrete enough for an indictment."

Catherine stared at the evidence board, her eyes unfocused. "We're missing something fundamental. Something obvious that we're just not seeing because we're too focused on..."

She trailed off, then suddenly sat up straighter.

"James, what if we've been looking at this all wrong?"

"How do you mean?"

She moved to the surveillance photos, scanning them with fresh eyes. "We've spent months analyzing every interaction between Maroni and the men in his circle. Every conversation, every deal, every favor exchanged. But what about their wives?"

James looked skeptical. "The wives? Cat, they're just... they're arm candy. Trophy wives there to look pretty and make small talk."

"Are they?" Catherine pulled out several photos from different events, laying them side by side. "Look at these images again, but this time ignore the men completely. Focus only on the women."

James approached reluctantly, then found himself studying the photographs with new interest. "Okay, I'm looking. They're all well-dressed, obviously wealthy..."

"Keep looking. What else do you notice?"

He examined each photo more carefully, his detective instincts slowly kicking in. The women's postures, their body language, the way they carried themselves... "They're all..." He paused, counting. "Jesus, Cat. They're all pregnant."

"Not just pregnant," Catherine said, her voice growing excited as the pieces fell into place. "Look at how far along they are. Mrs. Kellerman in this photo, Mrs. Morrison from the March gathering, Mrs. Chen from September..."

James studied the timeline, his expression growing darker. "They're all at roughly the same stage. Seven, maybe eight months along."

The room fell silent as the implications sank in. After months of focusing on the wrong targets, the real pattern had been hiding in plain sight.

"You think he's using them as informants?"

"I think he's obsessed with them," Catherine said quietly. "My contact in the Italian community says it goes back to his mother. She died in childbirth when he was twelve, trying to deliver what would have been his brother. The trauma shaped him in ways that make pregnant women both his weakness and his obsession."

James was quiet for a long moment, studying his wife's face. He could see the wheels turning, and could almost hear the dangerous plan forming in her mind.

"Cat, no."

"James —"

"No. Whatever you're thinking, the answer is no." He stood up, his voice rising. "You're talking about getting pregnant to catch a killer. Do you understand how insane that sounds?"

"Do you understand how many people die every month because we can't touch him?" she shot back. "Sixteen agents, James. Sixteen good men who left wives and children behind because conventional methods don't work with Maroni ."

"Then we find another way!"

"What other way?" She grabbed a file from the table, waving it at him. "The Bertinelli, the Benedettos, the whole connection—it all runs through him. Take him down, and we break the back of organized crime on the East Coast. Leave him alone, and the body count keeps rising."

James ran his hands through his hair, a gesture Catherine recognized as his attempt to stay calm. "Even if you're right about his obsession, even if getting pregnant would get you close to him—Cat, you're talking about carrying a child into mortal danger."

"I'm talking about being the only female agent in the Bureau, which means I'm the only one who can get close enough to him to make this work." Her voice softened slightly. "James, we've been trying to have a baby anyway. The timing could work perfectly."

"The timing?" He stared at her in disbelief. "You want to plan a pregnancy around a mafia investigation?"

"I want to plan a pregnancy around ending one of the most dangerous criminal enterprises in the country." She moved closer to him, taking his hands in hers. "Listen to me. Maroni 's next major gathering is planned for late spring next year. If we time this right, I'd be about seven months pregnant—far enough along to catch his attention, not so far that I couldn't handle myself if things go wrong."

"If things go wrong, you could lose the baby. You could lose your life."

"If we don't try this, dozens more people will lose their lives." She squeezed his hands. "James, I'm the best agent the Bureau has for close combat. You know that. My record speaks for itself."

"Your record doesn't include being seven months pregnant!"

Catherine was quiet for a moment, then spoke with deadly calm. "What if we fake it? Padding, prosthetics?"

James' eyes lit up with hope. "That could work. The risk would be minimal—"

"No." Catherine shook her head. "It wouldn't work. A man like Maroni  doesn't survive by being careless. He'd see through a fake pregnancy in minutes—the way I move, the way I carry myself, a thousand little details that only a real pregnancy would provide. The plan only works if everything is authentic."

They stared at each other across the kitchen, the morning light casting long shadows between them. Finally, James sank back into his chair.

"Seven months," he said quietly.

"Seven months. Big enough to be obvious, small enough that I can still fight if I have to."

"And if the Bureau won't authorize it?"

Catherine’s smile was sharp as a blade. "Then they don't need to know the pregnancy was intentional. As far as they're concerned, Agent Catherine Kyle got pregnant and decided to use her condition to finally crack an impossible case."

James was quiet for a long time, staring at the photographs scattered across their table. Finally, he looked up at his wife—at the determination in her eyes, the set of her jaw that he recognized from every major arrest she'd ever made.

"When do we start?" he asked.

Catherine smiled and began calculating dates in her head. By the time Salvatore Maroni held his next gathering, she would be carrying the perfect weapon to bring him down.

 —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

7 months later…

"What?"

The word exploded from Catherine’s lips with such fury that James actually took a step back. She stood in their living room, one hand pressed against her swollen belly, the other gripping the back of their sofa so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

"Cat, please, just listen—"

"Listen to what?" Her green eyes blazed with an anger James had rarely seen, even in their most heated professional disagreements. "Listen to how 7 months of planning, 7 months of my body, 7 months of our lives have just been thrown away because the event is canceled?"

James moved toward her carefully, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Which is exactly why I'm relieved. Thank God it's off. Cat, you and the baby are safe now."

"Safe?" She laughed bitterly, the sound harsh in their quiet apartment. "Do you see this?" She gestured to her prominently rounded stomach. "Months of preparation. Months of timing everything perfectly. And for what?"

"For nothing, and I couldn't be happier," James said softly. "Cat, look at yourself. Really look. You're seven months pregnant. You can barely see your own feet. The idea of you going up against a killer in your condition was insane from the start."

"My condition is exactly what would have gotten me close enough to put a bullet in that bastard's head." Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "And now it's all for nothing."

For a moment, the fight went out of her. She sank onto the sofa, both hands cradling her belly as the baby kicked restlessly, as if sensing the tension. When she looked up at James, desperation filled her eyes.

"Tell me more about it. What exactly did they say? Who made the decision?"

James sat beside her reluctantly, recognizing the tone that meant she wouldn't let this go. "The Bureau got cold feet. Too much risk, they said. Too many variables."

"But what about intelligence? The months of surveillance? All that work can't just be—"

"Cat, let it go."

"No." She turned to face him fully. "Something's not right. You're not telling me everything. What aren't you saying, James?"

He was quiet for a long time, and she could see the internal struggle playing out across his face. Finally, he sighed in defeat.

"It's... it's not exactly canceled."

Catherine's eyes sharpened like a predator scenting prey. "What do you mean 'not exactly'?"

"It's been delayed. Postponed."

"When?" The word came out as barely a whisper, hope flickering in her voice.

"Cat—"

"When, James? When is the new date?"

He was quiet for so long she thought he wouldn't answer. Finally, he spoke with obvious reluctance.

"Two months."

Catherine's eyes widened, then began to shine with renewed hope and excitement. "Two months. That would make me..."

"Full term," James said, his voice suddenly sharp with alarm as he realized what she was thinking. "Thirty-eight, thirty-nine weeks. Cat, no. Absolutely not."

Her face lit up with the same fierce determination he'd seen when she'd first proposed this insane plan. "It could work. It could actually work even better. A woman that far along, that vulnerable—he'd never suspect."

"A woman that far along could go into labor at any moment!" James shot to his feet, pacing away from her. "Do you want to give birth in the middle of a firefight? Are you completely out of your mind?"

"I'm close to finishing what we started." Catherine struggled to her feet, her excitement making her movements more animated despite her bulk. "James, we're so close. Closer than anyone's ever been to taking him down."

"We're close to getting you and our baby killed!" His composure cracked completely. "Jesus, Catherine, listen to yourself! You're talking about going on a deadly mission when you're ready to pop!"

"I'm talking about completing the most important case of our careers!"

"You're talking about suicide!" James turned to face her, his face flushed with anger and fear. "I won't allow it. I forbid it. The answer is no, Catherine. Absolutely, unequivocally no."

But she was already calculating, her mind racing through possibilities. "I'm still the best hand-to-hand combatant the Bureau has. Pregnancy doesn't change that."

"Doesn't it?" He moved toward her, his eyes desperate. "Can you honestly tell me you're as fast, as agile as you were nine months ago?"

Instead of answering with words, Catherine smiled. In one fluid motion, she pivoted on her heel, using his moment of distraction to sweep his legs and guide him backward. Despite her bulk, despite the awkwardness of her condition, the movement was perfectly executed. James found himself on his back on their bed, staring up at his wife in amazement.

"Fast enough," she said, settling beside him with a satisfied smile. "Strong enough. Smart enough." Her hand trailed down his chest. "And apparently still attractive enough to catch a dangerous man off guard."

James's resistance was weakening, and they both knew it. "Cat..."

Despite everything, James found himself staring at her—really looking at the woman above him. The way pregnancy had transformed her body into something both powerful and feminine, her breasts fuller, her hips curved, that taut round belly that spoke of life and strength. His hands moved to span her waist, or what was left of it.

"God help me," he murmured, his voice roughening. "I'm starting to understand Maroni . I'm beginning to see what draws him to women like you."

"Like me?" Catherine's voice was breathless as his hands explored the changes in her body.

"The curves," he whispered, his palms tracing the swell of her belly, the fullness of her breasts. "The way you look so soft, so ripe, so..." His eyes met hers. "So incredibly beautiful carrying our child. That bastard sees the vulnerability, the maternal glow, the round belly and thinks 'easy prey.'"

"And you?" she asked, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below his jaw.

"I get the better version," James's voice was thick with desire and admiration. "I see all that beauty, all that feminine power, but I also know what's underneath. The deadly training, the sharp mind, the woman who can kill with her bare hands while looking like she should be home knitting booties."

Catherine laughed against his neck. "Are you comparing yourself to a murderer, Agent James Kyle?"

"I'm comparing myself to a man who can't resist his wife when she's this magnificent, this dangerous, this..." His hands cupped her face. "This is absolutely irresistible."

“I know”. Catherine laughed playfully as she leaned toward his body.

"Well. I'll need the baby's cooperation, of course," she continued, her voice taking on a playful tone as her fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt. "I'm hoping he or she decides to stay put until mama finishes her work. No early arrivals, no inconvenient timing." She leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Think you could have a word with our child about professional courtesy?"

As Catherine's laugh dissolved into a deeper kiss, as their conversation shifted into whispered endearments and gentle touches that accommodated her condition, James found himself surrendering to both his desire and his wife's unshakeable determination.

Two months. Two months until she would use every weapon at her disposal—including the child they'd created—to bring down the most dangerous criminal on the East Coast.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And yes, you did. Thanks for your cooperation tonight, little one," Agent Catherine Kyle whispered to her unborn child, smoothing her hands over her swollen belly as she met her own eyes in the ornate mirror of Salvatore Maroni's private chamber. The reflection showed a demure society wife in pearls and silk, not the federal agent who had just crushed a crime lord's windpipe with her heel.

Behind her, Salvatore Maroni's body lay crumpled on the Persian rug where he'd fallen, his face purple and grotesque. The surprise in his eyes had lasted only seconds before her foot came down with lethal precision on his throat. All those months of combat training, adapted for her condition, had paid off. The knife she used just for interrogation was put back, concealed behind the garment—sometimes the simplest methods were the most effective. Catherine allowed herself exactly thirty seconds to catch her breath, watching the rise and fall of her chest in the mirror, before snapping back into action.

She moved to the body with practiced efficiency. The Bureau had been tracking Salvatore Maroni for three years, and they knew he carried his most valuable secrets not in any ledger or document, but etched permanently into his own flesh. Catherine knelt beside the corpse and began unbuttoning his shirt with clinical detachment.

There, sprawled across his pale chest in intricate black ink, was what the Bureau had been hunting for—a detailed tattoo map of  underground tunnels, complete with coordinates and coded symbols marking safe houses, weapons caches, and money drops. But it was the names tattooed along his ribs that would truly bring down his empire: every corrupt judge, politician, and police captain on his payroll, rendered in elegant script along the curve of his torso. On his back, the names of all smaller mafia families that submitted to him were also laid out before her eyes.

Catherine pulled out the tiny camera hidden in her compact and methodically photographed every inch of the macabre artwork. The intelligence tattooed on Salvatore Maroni's body would dismantle the largest criminal network in the country.

She snapped the compact shut and moved to the massive oak desk. Salvatore Maroni's appointment book lay open, revealing meetings scheduled through the end of the month. Catherine photographed the pages with the tiny camera hidden in her compact, capturing names, dates, and locations that would give the Bureau everything they needed to roll up his entire organization.

The grandfather clock in the corner chimed eight-thirty. She'd been gone from the party for exactly fifteen minutes—much longer and someone would come looking. Catherine quickly rearranged the scene, positioning Salvatore Maroni to look as though he'd simply had too much to drink and dozed off. By morning, when they found him truly dead, she'd be long gone. But now, the escape route…

“You know, if it wasn't for you, I would have just crawled the air ducts and jumped rooftops. Your mom is more action likey, you know”. Catherine talked jokingly looking down to her massive belly. “But, since I got it done thanks to you, I need to waddle through a thousand eyes again”.

She was adjusting her dress and fixing her hair when a sharp pain shot through her lower back and wrapped around her belly like a vice. Catherine gripped the edge of the desk, breathing through the contraction.

"Really?" she muttered, glaring down at her stomach as the pain subsided. "You've been the perfect partner all evening, and now you decide to make your grand entrance? Your timing, my dear child, leaves something to be desired."

The sound of footsteps in the hallway sent adrenaline flooding through her veins. Catherine straightened her shoulders, placed one hand on her lower back in the universal gesture of pregnancy discomfort, and prepared to play the role that would get her—and her baby—out of this mansion alive.

She opened the door with a satisfied smile. 2 guards at the door straightened as she emerged, their eyes automatically dropping to the small but unmistakable stain she'd carefully applied to her dress during her preparation.

"Gentlemen," she purred, adjusting her shawl with deliberate modesty. "Mr. Salvatore Maroni is quite... satisfied. He asked that I see myself out quietly."

Tommy nodded knowingly, his scarred face breaking into a crude grin. The evidence of her supposed encounter was exactly what these men expected to see. But Eddie frowned, tilting his head toward the closed door.

"It's awfully quiet in there, Tommy. Usually the boss likes his music after..."

Catherine felt her pulse quicken but kept her expression serene. "He mentioned wanting to rest. All that excitement, you understand." She placed a hand on her belly for emphasis.

Eddie's frown deepened. "I'm gonna take a quick look. Make sure everything's—"

"Of course," Catherine interrupted smoothly, stepping aside. "I do hope I haven't tired him too much."

Eddie pushed open the door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding Salvatore Maroni's crumpled form on the Persian rug. The boss's face was purple, his eyes bulging, his neck bent at an impossible angle.

"Jesus Christ!" Eddie gasped, his hand flying to his gun. "Tommy! TOMMY!"

He spun toward the door, ready to raise the alarm, but froze. The pregnant woman stood directly behind him, having moved with impossible silence. Her demure smile was gone, replaced by something cold and predatory. In that split second, Eddie realized he'd made a terrible mistake.

"How did you—"

The question died in his throat as darkness claimed him.

Catherine caught Eddie's unconscious form as he collapsed, easing him to the floor with practiced care. Outside in the hallway, Tommy lay equally still where she'd left him. She worked quickly now, dragging both men into the chamber's adjoining bathroom. Tommy was heavier, but adrenaline and months of modified training gave her the strength she needed. She positioned them both in the large marble bathtub, checking their pulses to ensure they were merely unconscious. She didn't want to kill them, just needed them out of her way.

Satisfied, she locked the bathroom door and pocketed that key as well, then secured the main study door from the outside. There should be twenty minutes before anyone else came looking.

Just as Catherine walked away from the door, the second contraction hit, twice as strong as the first. She doubled over, gripping the doorframe as the pain radiated through her entire torso. As it subsided, she felt a warm rush of fluid down her legs.

Her water had broken.

"Oh, perfect timing, sweetheart," she whispered through gritted teeth, looking down at her belly with a mixture of exasperation and affection. "Mama's in the middle of the most dangerous mission of her career, and you decide it's moving day. I suppose all this excitement has you eager to meet the world."

Catherine took a shaky breath and forced herself to move. She had perhaps an hour before the contractions became too intense to function. More than enough time to get out of —if she moved fast.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Downstairs, the hall thrummed with jazz music and drunken laughter. The baby inside Catherine seemed to press downward with each passing second, as if sensing the urgency.

Catherine forced herself to breathe through her nose, drawing on every technique they'd taught her at Quantico. Mind over matter. Control through discipline. She smoothed her dress, checked her reflection in the window's black glass, and walked toward the door.

The hallway stretched before her like a gauntlet. Persian rugs covered the hardwood floors—thank God for small mercies. Her heels clicked against the wood between carpets, but the sound was masked by the music below. Another contraction hit as she reached the top of the staircase, this one stronger than the last. She gripped the banister, willing her face to remain composed.

Smile. Look bored. You're just another dame leaving another boring meeting.

A drop of amniotic fluid hit the carpet runner. Then another. Catherine glanced back and saw the dark spots marking her path like breadcrumbs in a fairy tale. She pulled a lace handkerchief from her purse and dabbed at her forehead, using the motion to glance behind her. The trail was faint but visible if someone knew what to look for.

The main floor was a maze of cigarette smoke and silk stockings. Couples pressed close on the dance floor while others huddled over illegal gin at marble-topped tables. Catherine moved through them with practiced ease, her training allowing her to appear relaxed even as another wave of pain crashed through her midsection.

"Mrs. Castellano!"

Catherine's blood turned to ice. Tony Benedetto, Salvatore Maroni's lieutenant, emerged from the crowd with his gold-capped smile. "Leaving so soon?" Tony asked, his eyes scanning her face. There was something different in his expression tonight—sharper, more alert. "How did things go upstairs? The boss really took a shine to you. He always does with the ladies in your... condition." His gaze dropped meaningfully to her belly. "You're not the first expecting mother he's invited to his private study."

Catherine's face lit up with practiced delight, the kind of glow wealthy society women wore when discussing their conquests. "Oh, wonderfully! Your boss is such a charming man—so attentive, so passionate about everything." She pressed one hand to her stomach, letting a dreamy expression cross her features. "It's refreshing, really. My stupid husband was never so... engaged. Salvatore has such interesting stories, such worldly experiences."

Another contraction hit, stronger than before. She channeled the genuine discomfort into a delicate wince, the kind a pampered society lady might make. "Though I'm afraid this little one is being rather demanding tonight. All the excitement, perhaps."

Tony's expression shifted, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Not suspicion exactly, but a kind of focused attention that made Catherine's skin crawl. "Sal does have that effect on expecting mothers. Very... nurturing."

"Indeed," Catherine replied with a tinkling laugh that sounded like champagne glasses clinking. "Though I should probably head home before this baby decides to make any more demands. You know how it is."

A thin stream of fluid ran down her leg. “Oh no, not now, please stop”. She started to feel sweat running from her temple, sticking on her hair. Catherine paused her breath, praying Tony wouldn't notice.

Tony stepped closer, that unreadable expression still in his eyes. "Sal always says expecting mothers have a special... glow about them. Makes them more interesting to talk to." His voice carried an odd undertone. "You seem to have impressed him more than most."

Catherine tried to maintain her bright society smile, even as alarm bells rang in her head. "Well, I do try to be good company. A woman in my condition doesn't get many opportunities for stimulating conversation these days."

"Right," Tony said slowly. "Well, don't let me keep you. Drive safe—wouldn't want anything to happen to you or the little one."

She turned toward the exit with a gracious wave, fighting every instinct that screamed at her to run. More fluid leaked with each step, leaving tiny droplets on the marble between carpets. Behind her, she could feel Tony watching, but his footsteps weren't following.

Don't look back. Don't run. Walk like a lady who's had a delightful evening.

The front door seemed miles away through the crowd of revelers. Finally, she reached the entrance where the same two guards who had checked her invitation hours earlier stood watching the crowd.

"Evening, Mrs. Castellano," the larger one said, tipping his hat. "Hope you had a pleasant time."

"Quite lovely," she managed with another practiced smile. "Though I'm afraid I need to cut the evening short. This little one isn't being cooperative tonight." She patted her belly with motherly affection.

The guards chuckled knowingly and waved her through without a second glance.

Outside, she spotted her black Packard parked under a street lamp inside the event’s compound. Catherine walked to the car with measured steps, her society lady smile never wavering even as another contraction built like a rising tide. “Just a bit more. Just. A. Bit”

She fumbled for her keys with shaking hands, the pain making her fingers clumsy. The car door felt impossibly heavy as she pulled it open and slid behind the wheel. As she turned the ignition, a massive contraction seized her, and she gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

she gasped to her belly, her voice tight with pain and bitter affection. "Please give mommy a bit more time, sweetheart"

Behind her, shouts erupted from inside the building. Much sooner than she'd expected. She could hear men yelling Salvatore Maroni's name, car doors slamming.

"They found him," she whispered, gunning the engine. The Packard lurched forward as she pressed the accelerator, her hands trembling on the wheel. "Looks like you couldn't wait for a quiet exit either, could you, sweetheart?" she murmured to her unborn child, her voice mixing exhaustion with desperate tenderness. "Nine months of perfect timing, and now you want to steal the show."

The Packard's engine purred through the labyrinthine streets of South Side, each turn precisely calculated, each route memorized months in advance. Catherine had studied these roads like a scholar studies scripture—every alley, every shortcut, every possible escape path mapped and re-mapped until they lived in her muscle memory.

Behind her, the streets erupted in mechanical fury. Car engines roared to life from a dozen different directions, their headlights cutting through the night like angry eyes. Salvatore Maroni's men were spreading out across the streets in a desperate dragnet, but Catherine smiled grimly through another crushing contraction. They were chasing shadows. She had planned for this chaos, anticipated their panic, their predictable patterns of pursuit.

The beauty of her route lay in its simplicity—a series of residential streets that curved away from the criminal building in a gentle spiral, each turn taking her further from their search radius while appearing random to any observer. No straight lines, no obvious destinations, nothing they could predict or intercept. Her plan was perfect. Almost perfect. Almost

The only thing she hadn't planned for was the iron fist that seemed to be squeezing her entire midsection every few minutes, each contraction stronger than the last.

"Come on, sweetheart," she gasped between clenched teeth, one hand on the steering wheel, the other pressed against her belly. "Just hold on a little longer. Daddy's waiting for us, and then we can—"

Another contraction hit like a sledgehammer, and Catherine's foot pressed harder on the accelerator. The speedometer climbed as she raced through the empty streets, her breathing coming in sharp bursts. She could feel something shifting inside her, the baby dropping lower with each mile, each turn, each bump in the road.

The distant sound of engines was fading now, scattered across the city in futile pursuit. But the pressure between her legs was building, becoming impossible to ignore… 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Catherine had been driving for nearly two hours. By the time she reached the final stretch toward the suburb of Burnley, Catherine could barely focus on the road through the haze of pain. Sweat had soaked through her dress now—twice she'd had to pull over and breathe through the pain. But now it was different. Urgent. Final.

She spotted the designated meeting point—a small park overlooking the West River where her husband James would be waiting with a clean car and medical supplies. But as another massive contraction seized her, Catherine knew with crystal clarity that she wouldn't make it to those final three blocks.

The Packard lurched to a stop beneath a cluster of elm trees, hidden from the main road. Catherine's hands shook as she turned off the engine, then fumbled for the door handle. Each movement sent waves of agony through her body, but she forced herself out of the driver's seat and stumbled toward the back of the car.

The rear door felt impossibly heavy, but she managed to wrench it open and collapse onto the leather bench seat. There was no time for delicacy, no time for modesty. Catherine's hands found the delicate beadwork of her evening gown and tore at it with desperate strength, silk and sequins scattering across the car floor like fallen stars.

The fabric gave way with a satisfying rip, and suddenly her belly was free—enormous, pale, yet completely smooth with no sign of the strain of nine months' growth. Without the constraining silk, her abdomen seemed to expand even further, the skin stretched tight as a drum, blue veins visible beneath the surface like a roadmap of life itself.

Catherine struggled to position herself across the narrow bench, her back pressed against one door, her feet braced against the opposite window. The cramped space of the Packard's rear seat became her entire world as she spread her legs as wide as the confines would allow.

And then, for the first time in hours—perhaps for the first time in her entire life—Catherine Kyle let go of her perfect control.

“Nghhhhhh ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”

The scream that tore from her throat was nothing like the refined voice that had charmed Salvatore Maroni. This was primal, raw, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. It echoed through the car and out into the silent night, carrying with it all the pain and fear and desperate strength she had been holding inside.

Her body arched with the force of the contraction, every muscle straining, her face contorted in an expression of pure animal intensity. Sweat beaded on her forehead and ran down her cheeks, mixing with tears she didn't remember shedding. Her hands gripped the leather seat so hard her knuckles went white, and another guttural cry escaped her lips.

This was Catherine Kyle stripped of every pretense, every carefully constructed facade. Gone was the elegant wife who had sipped champagne and traded pleasantries with criminals. Gone was the cool-headed agent who had snapped a man's neck with surgical precision barely an hour ago. In her place was something far more elemental—a woman caught in the most fundamental act of human existence, her body doing what bodies had done for millennia, regardless of bullets or badges or carefully laid plans.

Her belly contracted again, the muscles rippling visibly beneath her skin like waves across water. The baby was coming whether the world was ready or not, and Catherine could only surrender to the inexorable force of biology, her body no longer her own but something ancient and powerful that knew exactly what it needed to do.

The night outside was surprisingly quiet and peaceful. Leaves fell down the path. Street lamps sparkling in the night mist. But inside the car, Catherine was beyond caring about that, beyond anything but the overwhelming need to push, to bring this new life into a world that seemed determined to tear everything apart.

The pressure was unbearable now, a burning, stretching sensation that consumed every nerve in Catherine's body. She could feel it—the baby's head, right there, pressing against her from the inside, demanding release. The knowledge should have been reassuring, but instead it filled her with a desperate urgency that made her heart race even faster.

Catherine pulled her knees toward her chest with trembling arms, her muscles screaming in protest as she forced her legs as wide as the cramped confines of the Packard would allow. The leather seat beneath her was slick with sweat and fluid, and she struggled to maintain her grip on her own legs as another contraction built like a gathering storm.

"Come on," she gasped, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Come on, baby, please..."

She bore down with everything she had, every ounce of strength and determination that had carried her through nine months of undercover work. The pressure intensified, and she felt the baby's head begin to emerge, stretching her beyond what seemed possible. For a moment—just a moment—she felt the crown of her child's head slip forward, and hope flared in her chest.

But then she had to breathe.

The instant she relaxed, the instant her muscles released their iron grip, she felt the baby's head slip back inside. The retreat was unmistakable, devastating, and Catherine's scream of frustration echoed through the car like a wounded animal.

"No! No, no, no!" she cried, panic flooding her system like ice water. "Please don't go back in! Please!"

She immediately bore down again, pulling her legs closer to her chest, straining until she saw stars. Again, the head emerged slightly, the burning stretch returning with renewed intensity. Again, she had to pause for breath. Again, the baby retreated.

"God, please," Catherine sobbed, her professional composure completely shattered. This wasn't like her training, wasn't like the careful control she'd maintained her entire adult life. Her body was betraying her, refusing to cooperate when she needed it most. "Stay out, please just stay out..."

The cycle repeated—push, emerge, retreat—until Catherine was gasping with exhaustion and terror. Each time the baby's head slipped back, she felt a piece of her confidence crumble. Each failed attempt brought her closer to complete panic.

She tried changing positions, bracing her feet against the car window differently, adjusting the angle of her hips. Nothing worked. The baby would crown for a few precious seconds, Catherine's heart would soar with relief, and then gravity and anatomy would conspire to pull her child back into the darkness.

"Why won't you come out?" she whispered desperately, looking down at her enormous belly for the first time with something she'd never felt before—genuine fear. Not the calculated risk assessment of an agent in the field, but the raw, primal terror of a woman whose body seemed to be failing her at the most crucial moment.

Her belly looked impossibly large from this angle, stretched, distorted, and tight. She could see the baby moving beneath the surface, restless and trapped, as desperate to escape as she was to deliver. The sight that had once filled her with wonder now seemed alien, frightening.

Catherine Kyle—who had walked into a den of killers without flinching, who had taken lives with her bare hands, who had maintained perfect composure under the most extreme pressure—was terrified. For the first time in her adult life, she was facing something she couldn't control, couldn't manipulate, couldn't overcome through skill or training or sheer force of will.

"I can't do this," she whispered, the admission torn from her like a confession. "I can't... I don't know how..."

Another contraction built, and she had no choice but to try again. She pulled her legs up, bore down with everything she had left, felt the familiar stretch and burn as the head emerged once more. This time she held her breath as long as she could, trying to maintain the pressure, trying to keep the baby from retreating.

But her lungs burned, her vision blurred, and when she finally gasped for air, she felt that devastating slip backward once again.

Catherine's scream this time was pure anguish, a sound that came from a place deeper than pain, deeper than fear. It was the cry of someone pushed beyond their breaking point, someone who had run out of options and was staring into an abyss of their own making. She was trapped in this leather-and-steel prison with her own failing body, locked in a battle she didn't know how to win.

The woman who had never met a problem she couldn't solve was drowning in her own helplessness, and for the first time in her life, Catherine wasn't sure she was strong enough to survive what came next.

"James!" Catherine's voice cracked as she screamed his name into the darkness, desperation making her sound like a lost child. "James, where are you? I need you! Please, I need you!"

The silence that followed was deafening except for her ragged breathing and the distant sound of the West River lapping against its banks. Another contraction was building, and Catherine felt herself breaking apart, fragmenting into pieces she didn't know how to put back together.

"JAMES!" she screamed again, her voice raw and primal. "Please! I can't—I can't do this alone!"

The baby's head pressed against her again, that familiar burning stretch, but this time Catherine barely had the strength to push. Her body felt like it was giving up, her spirit crushed by the endless cycle of hope and failure.

Then—like salvation itself—she heard the purr of an engine cutting through the night.

Headlights swept across the trees, and Catherine's heart leaped as she recognized the familiar rumble of James's Buick. The car pulled up beside her Packard, and suddenly the night was filled with the sound of car doors slamming and running footsteps.

"Catherine! My God, Catherine!"

When James appeared at the rear door of the Packard, Catherine dissolved completely. All the strength that had carried her through the mission, through the escape, through the endless nightmare of labor, simply evaporated. She was no longer Agent Catherine Kyle—she was just a woman in agony, crying for her husband.

"It hurts," she sobbed, reaching for him with trembling hands. "Oh God, James, it hurts so bad. I can't get the baby out. It keeps going back in, and I don't know what to do, and I'm so scared—"

James's face went white at the sight of her—his elegant, unflappable wife reduced to tears and desperation, her torn evening gown revealing the full magnitude of her struggle. But his hands were steady as they found hers, his voice strong and sure in a way that made her heart clench with relief.

"Hey, hey, look at me," he said, climbing into the car beside her, his large frame filling the cramped space. "I'm here, Cat. I’m here with you. Always”. The masculine yet soothing voice of James filled Catherine’s ears like the voice from an angel. “You're not alone anymore. You're the strongest woman I know, and we're going to do this together."

Catherine cried harder at his words, but they were different tears now—tears of relief, of gratitude, of love so fierce it took her breath away. "I tried so hard," she whispered. "I tried to be strong, but—"

"You are strong," James interrupted, his hands moving to cradle her face. "Look what you did tonight. You completed the mission, you escaped, you drove yourself here while in labor. You're incredible, sweetheart. Now let me help you bring our baby into the world."

Baby. The word sent a thrill through Catherine's exhausted body. Another contraction began to build, and James immediately shifted into position, his hands gentle but sure as he helped adjust her legs. "When the next one comes, I want you to push with everything you've got, and I'll guide the baby's head. Don't stop pushing until I tell you to, no matter how much it hurts. Can you do that for me?"

Catherine nodded, gripping his hand so tightly her knuckles went white. "Don't leave me."

"Never," he promised, his voice fierce with love and determination. "We're in this together."

The contraction peaked, and Catherine bore down with renewed strength, fueled not just by her own will but by James's unwavering presence beside her. She felt the familiar stretch and burn as the baby's head emerged, but this time James's hands were there, steady and sure.

"That's it," he encouraged, his voice tight with emotion. "I can see her head. She's beautiful, Catherine. Keep pushing, don't stop—"

The pain was still excruciating, perhaps even worse than before, but somehow it felt different with James there. Manageable. Shared. When the urge to stop and breathe became overwhelming, his voice pulled her through it.

"I've got her head," James said, wonder creeping into his voice. "One more big push for the shoulders, sweetheart. You can do this."

Catherine summoned every ounce of strength she had left, every reserve of determination that had carried her through years of dangerous work. But now she wasn't pushing for the Bureau, or for justice, or for the mission. She was pushing for the family they were about to become, for the daughter who was fighting just as hard to be born.

With a final, earth-shattering effort, Catherine felt her baby slip free in a rush of warmth and relief so profound she thought she might faint. The sudden absence of pressure was shocking, overwhelming, like awakening from a nightmare into bright daylight.

And then—the most beautiful sound in the world.

A baby's cry, strong and indignant, filled the car and spilled out into the night. James' hands were gentle as he lifted their child, and when Catherine saw it for the first time—tiny, perfect, furiously alive—she began to cry all over again.

"It’s a girl”,James whispered, “She's perfect," his own voice thick with tears as he placed the baby on Catherine's chest. "She's absolutely perfect."

Catherine cradled her daughter against her skin, feeling the tiny heart beating rapidly against her own. After nine months of partnership, of shared missions and shared secrets, they were finally meeting face to face.

"Hello, little one," Catherine whispered, her voice soft with wonder. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

The baby's cries quieted at the sound of her mother's voice, and Catherine felt a peace she hadn't known in months settle over her. The mission was over. The danger had passed. And here, in the backseat of her car under the  stars, their family had officially begun.

—------------------------------------------------------

The baby settled against Catherine's chest with a soft sigh, her tiny fingers curled around a strand of her mother's hair. In the gentle glow of the car's dome light, Catherine could see every perfect detail—the delicate eyelashes, the rosebud mouth, the way her daughter's nose wrinkled slightly in sleep.

"She's extraordinary," Catherine whispered, unable to take her eyes off the miracle in her arms.

James smiled, his hand gentle as he stroked the baby's downy head. "She gets that from her mother. Speaking of which—" He looked at Catherine with pride shining in his eyes. "The mission was flawless. Absolutely flawless. Salvatore Maroni never saw it coming."

Catherine's face lit up with professional satisfaction, even in her exhausted state. "Nine months of preparation, and it worked exactly as planned. Well, almost exactly." She glanced down at their daughter with a rueful smile. "With Salvatore Maroni eliminated, the entire Maroni network will crumble within weeks. The Bureau will be able to roll up their entire operation."

"But?" James knew his wife well enough to hear the concern in her voice.

Catherine's expression grew serious. "The intelligence I gathered from Salvatore Maroni... There are other names. Smaller families, but growing. The Vitis are expanding their smuggling operations, and there's a family called Falcones that's been quietly building power in the dock districts. And not only families, but lone, young gangsters. I remember seeing names like Cobblepot or Sionis"

James nodded thoughtfully. "They're small now, but in a city like this..."

"Exactly. We should consider taking action before they grow too large to contain." Catherine shifted the baby slightly, her maternal instincts and professional mind working in parallel. "Crime in Gotham  is like a hydra—cut off one head, and two more appear."

"Gotham's a big city," James said with a sigh. "Crime will always thrive here. We can never really rest, can we?"

Catherine was quiet for a moment, then smiled as the baby made a small sound in her sleep. "Speaking of rest, we should think about getting home. This little one needs proper care."

"About that," James said, his eyes twinkling. "I got a message from my mother before I came to find you. She wanted to congratulate us, and she's sent some... unusual baby gifts."

"Unusual how?"

"A litter of newborn kittens. Born tonight, just hours before our daughter. She thought it was fate—that they should grow up together."

Catherine laughed, the sound mixing exhaustion with genuine delight. "Kittens? Your mother certainly has interesting ideas about appropriate baby gifts."

"Well. She loves you. She started to raise cats when she knew how much you love them. And she wants to pass that tradition to our baby."

"And if she hates them instead?"

James grinned. "Then we'll have a house full of very disappointed kittens."

Catherine looked down at their sleeping daughter, her expression growing contemplative. "I hope she'll be strong like us, James. Strong enough to handle whatever this world throws at her. But I don't know if that kind of strength is a gift or a curse."

"Both, probably," James said softly. "The best gifts usually are."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts about the future, about the country they'd sworn to protect, about the tiny person who would grow up in the shadows of 's endless struggle between order and chaos.

"So," James said eventually, "we never did settle on a name if it was a girl."

Catherine smiled, running her finger along the baby's cheek. "Actually, I've been thinking about that for weeks but never came to an answer. But there's something perfect about tonight—the way she chose her moment, the way she fought to be born, the way she already seems so... independent. All in this destiny night"

"What are you thinking?"

"Selina," Catherine said softly. "Selina Kyle. It just sounds—mysterious, powerful, beautiful, like the darkness."

James tested the name quietly. "Selina Kyle." He nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "It's perfect. Strong but elegant. Independent but not lonely."

"She'll make her own path in this world," Catherine murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Selina's forehead. "Whatever that path might be."

As if responding to her name, baby Selina stretched slightly in her mother's arms, one tiny hand reaching up toward the car's ceiling, fingers spread like small claws grasping at the stars visible through the window.

In the distance, the lights of Gotham City twinkled like fallen stars, and somewhere in those shadowy streets, the next generation of both heroes and villains was already being born. But for now, in this moment, there was only love, hope, and the promise of tomorrow held safe in a mother's arms.

The Kyle family was complete, and Gotham would never be quite the same.

[whywontyoucomeout]

[whywontyoucomeout]

A warrior’s pride (alternative ver)

Warning: this version is more dark and more extreme birth denial. If you are not into birth denial, please dont read it. You are warned.

This starts from when the labor begins.

———————————————————

Mei Lian lay on her back, her entire body trembling with effort as the contractions became more intense. Her massive belly, swollen tight and round, rose like a mountain in front of her, heaving with each labored breath. Her legs were parted, but only slightly, her instincts still trying to shield her most vulnerable self from the man watching her in the corner. Even in this moment, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her completely exposed.

The leader’s mocking voice echoed in the room, filled with dark amusement. “What’s this?” he sneered, stepping closer. “Too shy to spread those legs wide? Afraid to show me what a great warrior looks like when she’s brought to her knees by childbirth?”

Mei gritted her teeth, trying to block out the pain and his voice at the same time. She could feel the baby moving inside her, ready to emerge, but the progress was agonizingly slow. The pressure was unbearable, her muscles burning with effort, but she couldn’t bring herself to fully spread her legs, not with him watching. Instead, she pushed, trying desperately to focus on the task at hand.

But just as the baby’s head began to crown, the unbearable stretch making her wince, it slipped back inside, retreating once more. Mei gasped, her frustration mounting, and before she could stop herself, her legs spread wider, her body demanding more room for the baby to come out.

The leader laughed, the sound cold and cruel. “There we go. That’s better,” he mocked. “But it doesn’t seem to be helping, does it? You spread those legs, but the baby’s still slipping back. Maybe if you open up more, you’ll finally get somewhere.”

Mei bit back a sob, her pride and frustration clashing inside her. She could feel the heat of embarrassment burning her cheeks, knowing how exposed she was, but the pain was too overwhelming to care. Her legs spread wider with each contraction, her body shaking as she pushed with all her might. She felt the baby’s head emerging again, stretching her painfully, but just as before, it retreated, slipping back into her body like a cruel tease.

“Come on,” she whimpered through gritted teeth, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, come out…”

The leader’s laughter grew louder, his taunts relentless. “You’re trying so hard, and still nothing. Maybe you’re just not built for this. Look at you—your belly’s so big, but the baby can’t even make it out of that tiny little opening. What a shame.”

Mei screamed as another contraction ripped through her, her entire body shaking with the effort. Her legs spread even wider, her powerful thighs trembling as she bore down, desperate to make progress. The pain was blinding, her body stretched to its limits, yet still, the baby refused to stay out. It would crown, only to slip back again, retreating into the safety of her womb.

The leader’s voice was like a knife, cutting through the haze of pain. “Look at you now, Crimson Tiger. You’re completely exposed, legs spread as wide as they can go, and still, you can’t manage to get the baby out. It’s almost pathetic, watching you struggle like this.”

Mei wanted to fight back, to scream at him, to tell him to shut up, but her body was betraying her. Every contraction felt like it was tearing her apart, her legs shaking uncontrollably as she pushed harder, wider, until there was nothing left of her to hide. She was fully exposed now, her legs spread as far as they could go, her body laid bare to the man who had once feared her.

And still, the baby slipped back.

She let out a desperate cry, tears streaming down her face as she pushed again, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her, her knuckles white with the effort. She could feel the baby’s head stretching her again, but just as before, it retreated, leaving her on the brink of collapse.

"See?" the leader said with a smirk. "All that effort, and it’s still slipping back in. You can spread those legs as far as you want, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. What’s wrong? Feeling ashamed now? You should be."

Mei’s chest heaved, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as the frustration and pain consumed her. She felt utterly humiliated, completely exposed, but there was nothing she could do. Her body demanded more room, more space to bring her child into the world, and no matter how wide she spread her legs, the baby wouldn’t come.

Her scream pierced the air as she bore down again, her body shaking uncontrollably as the baby’s head began to crown once more. This time, it stayed longer, the tight opening around her stretching painfully to accommodate it. But still, it wasn’t enough. The baby slipped back inside, retreating just as she thought she was making progress.

Tears of rage and desperation streamed down her face as she screamed again, her voice raw from the effort. “Please, just come out!” she sobbed, her body trembling with exhaustion.

The leader only laughed. “You’re breaking, Mei Lian. You’re not so tough now, are you? All those victories, all that power, and yet here you are, unable to bring a child into the world. Pathetic.”

Mei Lian’s breath was ragged, her body trembling as she felt another contraction building deep within her. Every muscle in her body strained, her legs spread as wide as they could go, her powerful thighs shaking from the effort. This time, when she pushed, she felt the baby’s head emerging once more, but unlike the previous attempts, it didn’t slip back immediately. It stayed there, crowning fully, stretching her unbearably tight.

The pain was immense, and she let out a low, guttural groan, her body fighting to accommodate the baby’s size. She could feel every inch of her being pulled apart, her skin stretched to its limit. The baby’s head was so large that it felt like she was being torn in two, but the progress was undeniable. It was finally happening.

"Ah, there it is," the leader’s voice slithered through the air, mocking and cold. He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement as he watched her struggle. "You’re making some progress, I see. But look at how big that head is. It’s almost as if your body can’t handle it."

Mei bit down on her lip, trying to focus on the task at hand. She was so close now, so painfully close. If she could just keep pushing, keep bearing down, the baby would come. Her hands clutched the sheets, her knuckles white from the effort, her entire body trembling with exhaustion and agony. But she was making progress, and that gave her a sliver of hope.

Another contraction hit, and she pushed with everything she had, letting out a scream as the baby’s head stretched her wider, her body burning with the strain. The leader watched, a dark grin spreading across his face as he saw her desperation.

"You know," he said, his tone casual but dripping with malice, "I can’t just let this happen. You don’t deserve to give birth that easily after everything you’ve done."

Mei’s heart sank, her eyes widening in terror as she realized what he meant. Before she could react, the leader stepped closer, his hand outstretched toward her. Panic surged through her as she instinctively tried to close her legs, but her body was too weak, too spent from the effort of pushing.

“No!” she gasped, her voice filled with desperation as he loomed over her. “Don’t! Please, don’t do this!”

But the leader ignored her, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. He waited for the next contraction to hit, watching her writhe in pain. Just as she bore down with all her might, trying to push the baby further out, he reached down and placed his hand on the crowning head of the baby.

Mei screamed in panic, her legs kicking uncontrollably as she tried to stop him, but her body was too exhausted, her muscles too weak from the relentless contractions. She could feel the baby being pushed back inside, the progress she had fought so hard to make slipping away. The pressure was unbearable, her body screaming in protest as the baby’s head retreated into her once again.

“No, no, no!” she cried, her voice breaking as she tried to push back, to stop the baby from being forced inside. But it was no use. The leader’s hand pressed firmly against her, shoving the baby back, and the pain was excruciating.

Her legs flailed weakly, her body trembling as she fought with everything she had, but it wasn’t enough. The baby, which had been so close to being born, was pushed back completely inside her, retreating into the depths of her womb. Mei let out a broken sob as she felt the loss, her body utterly spent, her mind shattered by the betrayal of her own strength.

The leader stood over her, laughing darkly, watching as she lay there in defeat. “You see?” he sneered, wiping his hand on his clothes as if the mere act of helping her birth was beneath him. “You’re not in control anymore. No matter how strong you are, I can still stop you. You can’t do anything, not like this.”

Mei sobbed, her body wracked with pain and exhaustion. She had fought so hard, pushed so long, only to have everything undone. Her mind was clouded with frustration and agony, her body trembling uncontrollably as the baby rested within her once again, refusing to come out.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Please… let me give birth…”

The leader crouched down beside her, his face inches from hers, his smile cold and unfeeling. “Begging now, are we? The Crimson Tiger, reduced to pleading for mercy. How the mighty have fallen.”

Mei’s chest heaved with sobs, her hands gripping her belly as if she could somehow force the baby back down, but she knew it was hopeless. She had been utterly broken, and the leader’s mocking laughter echoed in her ears as she lay there, too weak and too desperate to fight anymore.

“Look at you,” he whispered, leaning in close. “Completely exposed. Completely helpless. And all for nothing.”

Mei’s heart broke as his words pierced through her, her mind swirling with helplessness and pain. She had never felt so powerless, so utterly defeated. The baby, so close to being born, was now back inside her, and all she could do was lie there and endure the agony.

She closed her eyes, her body shaking with exhaustion, the weight of the baby pressing down on her, making her feel like she might break. She could feel the contractions building again, but now, even with the pain, she didn’t know if she had the strength to try again.

The leader’s laughter filled the room, his mocking voice the only sound as Mei lay there, shattered and broken, her body and spirit both at their limit.

Mei lay on the floor, utterly broken, her mind and body both shattered from the relentless agony. She had pleaded, begged, but it hadn’t been enough. The baby, which had nearly emerged, was back inside her, and now, the contractions started again, merciless in their force. It didn’t matter if she was ready, didn’t matter if her will had crumbled; the birth would go on, no matter what.

Her belly tightened once more, hard as stone, and she let out a sob as another contraction wracked her body. She was beyond exhausted, her limbs trembling with weakness, her muscles burning with fatigue. But still, her body demanded that she push, and she had no choice but to obey. She bore down, the pain ripping through her, her voice breaking into a desperate scream as she pushed with everything she had left.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the baby’s head began to move again, forcing its way back through her body, inch by torturous inch. It was the same unbearable stretch she had felt before, the same battle she had fought and lost. The head, which had cost her so much effort to crown the first time, now required the same again. Her legs spread wide, her body straining as she pushed, the pain so intense that she couldn’t hold back her sobs.

“Ah, back to where we started,” the leader mocked, stepping closer once again, his grin wide and cruel. “Looks like you’re right back where you were before. How does it feel? All that pain, all that effort, and still you’re struggling.”

Mei let out a scream, her body shaking uncontrollably as she pushed again, the baby’s head crowning once more. It was excruciating, the stretch so intense that it felt like her body might tear apart. She could feel the head right there, so close, but still, it wasn’t enough. The progress was painfully slow, each inch a monumental effort, each contraction wringing every last ounce of strength from her.

“Please,” she gasped between sobs, her voice raw and desperate. “Please…”

The leader’s laughter echoed around her, cold and mocking. “Please what? You want my help now? Maybe if you beg a little more, I’ll let you give birth. How about that?”

Mei’s heart sank, the humiliation crushing her as deeply as the pain. She didn’t want to beg him again, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But she had no choice. The baby was right there, so close to being born, and she couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t bear the thought of him pushing the baby back inside her, of losing all the progress she had made. The shame burned through her, but she was too broken to fight it anymore.

“Please,” she whimpered, her voice shaking with desperation. “Please don’t push the baby back. I’m begging you… Please, just let me give birth.”

The leader stepped even closer, crouching down beside her as she lay there, her legs spread wide, her body trembling with the effort of holding the baby’s head in place. He leaned in, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “Beg more,” he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. “Tell me how much you need this.”

Tears streamed down Mei’s face as she struggled to speak through the pain. “I need this… please… please let me give birth,” she sobbed, her hands gripping her belly as another contraction ripped through her. “I can’t take it anymore… Please, don’t push the baby back… I’ll do anything…”

The leader laughed, satisfied with her desperation. “That’s more like it,” he said, his grin wide. “Now, let’s see if you can finish this.”

Mei’s body trembled as the next contraction hit, the pain unbearable, but she pushed through it with everything she had. The baby’s head, which had slipped back so cruelly before, finally moved forward again. Inch by inch, it came, stretching her beyond anything she had ever felt before. She screamed, her voice raw, as the pressure built to a breaking point.

One more push. Just one more.

Mei bore down, her legs trembling uncontrollably as she gave everything she had left. And then, with a final, guttural scream, the baby’s head emerged fully, stretching her wide as it finally broke free. She collapsed back, gasping for breath, her entire body shaking with exhaustion.

The leader stood over her, his grin cruel, but he didn’t push the baby back this time. He simply watched, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, as Mei lay there, broken and trembling, the baby’s head now fully out.

“Looks like you finally did it,” he sneered. “But don’t think this is over yet. You still have the rest of the baby to deal with.”

Mei's body was trembling, her breath shallow and labored as she prepared for the next wave of pain to take her. The baby’s head was out, stretching her unbearably, but the hardest part was still ahead—the shoulders. She had thought she might get a brief moment of relief, but the moment the leader spoke, her hope was crushed.

“Big baby, isn’t it?” he mocked, his voice filled with a twisted kind of amusement. “Look at those shoulders. I wonder if you’ll even manage to get them out. But remember—if you want this to happen, you’ll need to listen to me. Obey me, or I can undo all of your precious progress in an instant.”

Mei’s heart sank, and she fought back tears of frustration. She was too exhausted, too broken by the pain to fight him anymore. Her will had crumbled under the agony of childbirth, and now she had no choice but to listen, to follow his commands, no matter how humiliating they were. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her, watching her every move, savoring her suffering.

“Take off your clothes,” he ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

Her eyes widened in shock, and she felt a surge of shame wash over her. Her clothes were already loose, her robe barely clinging to her sweat-drenched body, but the thought of being completely exposed in front of him, especially in this vulnerable state, was unbearable. She hesitated, but the reminder of his threat—of how easily he could shove the baby back inside—hung over her like a blade.

Mei hesitated, but the sharp edge of the leader's taunts and the pressure of her situation left her with no choice. With trembling hands, she began to loosen the last of her clothing, her body shaking as the fabric fell away. Slowly, painfully, she removed her remaining clothes, exposing her swollen belly, bare skin, and powerful limbs. Her round, taut belly stood out, still swollen and hard, its massive size more evident now than ever. It was so heavy, straining against her skin, still containing so much of the baby even though the head had emerged.

The leader’s laugh was cruel, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction. “This sight,” he sneered, “should’ve been reserved for your husband alone. Yet here I am, the one to witness it.” His words cut deep, and though she felt a wave of shame and fury, Mei forced herself to remain silent, the fire of her rage burning beneath the surface.

The leader’s eyes glinted with satisfaction as he looked at her. “There you go,” he said, his voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Look at you. All that power in your arms and legs, and yet here you are, broken by a simple birth. And that belly—still so big, still so full. It’s almost like it doesn’t want to let go.”

Mei clenched her jaw, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape. She had never felt so ashamed, so utterly exposed. She was a warrior, feared and respected, but now, in this moment, she was reduced to nothing more than a vessel for this baby, completely at the mercy of her body and the man who had taken advantage of her vulnerability.

Then, just as she tried to push again, she felt it—the baby’s shoulder was stuck. She groaned in pain, her hands clutching the sheets as her body strained to force the baby out, but it wouldn’t move. The contraction came and went, and still, the baby stayed lodged inside her.

The leader smirked, stepping closer. “It’s stuck, isn’t it? Seems like you need a bit of help after all. Change position—get on your hands and knees. It’ll give me a better view of your obedience.”

Mei’s heart pounded in her chest, but she knew she had no choice. Her body was too exhausted to resist, and the baby was too big to come out without something changing. With a painful groan, she started to shift her body, the baby’s head still hanging between her legs as she awkwardly moved onto her hands and knees. The effort was almost too much, her belly pulling heavily at her, the weight unbearable.

Finally, she managed to get into position, her face buried in the bed, her hips raised high, her swollen belly hanging low beneath her, almost touching the bed. She felt completely exposed, her massive belly on full display, her most private parts vulnerable and open. The humiliation burned through her, but there was no time to dwell on it—the contractions were coming again, more intense than before.

“Look at you,” the leader sneered, circling her like a predator. “Your belly hangs so low, almost touching the bed. It’s massive—how are you even carrying that thing? And now, you’re pushing your hips back toward me, as if you’re begging for help. Is this what you’ve been reduced to?”

Mei squeezed her eyes shut, tears of frustration and pain spilling down her cheeks as the next contraction hit. Her body moved instinctively, her hips pushing backward, toward him, as she tried to bear down. The pressure was immense, the baby’s shoulder grinding against her bones, and she let out a loud, primal scream as she pushed with all her strength.

Her face pressed into the mattress, her fingers digging into the fabric, her powerful legs trembling beneath her as she struggled to birth the baby. Each push sent waves of pain coursing through her, but the baby still refused to move. Her massive belly, hanging low and tight, only added to her frustration, mocking her with its immensity.

“Push harder,” the leader mocked, leaning in close as she struggled. “You’ll never get it out if you don’t put in the effort. Or maybe you need more motivation?”

Mei’s sobs mixed with her screams as she pushed again, her hips rocking back as she tried to force the baby’s shoulder free. Every inch of her body was burning with effort, her muscles trembling uncontrollably, but she couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when she was so close.

The leader laughed as he watched her struggle, but in this position, there was nothing she could do but obey. The baby’s shoulder shifted, just a little, and she felt a surge of hope. Another push. Another scream. And finally, she felt the baby move.

Mei's screams filled the room, louder and more desperate with each push. She no longer cared about the Black Talon leader's mocks or the humiliation of exposing herself. Her pride had dissolved in the agony of labor. All that mattered was getting her child out of her. Every inch of her body trembled with the effort, her legs spread as far as they could go, her powerful thighs quaking under the strain. Her voice rang out, guttural and raw, echoing through the walls as she pushed and pushed with everything she had.

Finally, with one last primal scream, the baby slipped free of her body, and Mei collapsed backward, turning quickly to catch the newborn in her trembling arms. Tears of exhaustion and relief streamed down her face as she held the tiny, wriggling life to her chest. The pain was over. At last, she thought, it was done.

But the leader’s voice cut through her moment of peace. “Oh, don’t think this is over,” he said with a twisted smile. His sword glinted in the dim light as he approached, slowly, deliberately. “I should have killed you while you were pushing, but watching you suffer—watching you beg for that baby—was far too enjoyable. Now, though… now is the perfect time.”

Mei's heart raced as she cradled the baby close, acting as if she were too weak and helpless to fight back. Her body was utterly spent, her belly still heavy and swollen, even though she had just delivered. She let herself slump, her eyes wide with feigned fear as the leader moved closer, his weapon ready to strike. He was certain she was finished—after all, she had just endured a grueling birth. How could she possibly defend herself now?

But the Black Talon leader underestimated her. Without the excruciating pain of childbirth clouding her mind and distracting her senses, Mei was still dangerous. More dangerous than ever, in fact, with the fierce instinct to protect her newborn burning within her. Her body was weak, her muscles screaming from the effort, but her will was iron. She kept her eyes low, her breaths shallow, playing the part of a woman too tired and broken to fight back.

When he lunged toward her, his blade poised to strike, everything happened in a blur. Mei's hand shot out, faster than he could react, knocking the sword from his grip with a single, powerful blow. In the same fluid motion, she struck him across the chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Horror flickered in his eyes, the same horror that had been there the last time they fought, when he begged for his life.

This time, there would be no begging. No words. Mei stood over him, her eyes cold and sharp, her face hard with disgust. He tried to stammer something—some plea, some pathetic excuse—but his words were lost in the quivering fear that overtook him. She didn’t give him a chance. With a swift, final strike, she ended his life. There was no hesitation, no mercy left for a man as despicable as him.

She turned away from his body without a second glance, the weight of his death meaning nothing to her compared to the life she had just brought into the world. Mei returned to her baby, her hands gentle as she wrapped the tiny child in what little cloth she had. Exhausted as she was, there was a peace in her heart now. The danger was gone. It was over.

Or so she thought.

Suddenly, a sharp, familiar pain gripped her belly. Her breath caught in her throat as her hand flew instinctively to her stomach. The pain intensified, radiating through her like a lightning bolt. Mei’s eyes widened in disbelief. Her belly, still so round and tight, still stretched beyond belief even after the birth, gave her the answer. It couldn't be. Could it?

Before she could fully comprehend, another contraction hit, and she doubled over, clutching her belly as realization dawned. There was another one. Her baby had a sibling. And it was coming now.

Gritting her teeth, Mei steeled herself. The pain was unbearable, but this time, she was in control. There were no enemies, no vile man mocking her, no distractions. She was free to face this final challenge with strength and focus. The contractions came in waves, but she welcomed them now, her body working in harmony with the process.

With renewed strength, Mei embraced the pain, embraced the birth, and pushed. This time, there was no fear. Only hope. She was ready. And she would finish this battle with the same determination she brought to every fight—strong, fierce, and victorious.

The end.

[whywontyoucomeout]

A warrior’s pride

———————

In the remote hills of the Jiangnan region, where mist rolled over jagged cliffs and rivers carved their way through ancient forests, there was a name spoken with equal parts reverence and fear: Mei Lian, the Crimson Tiger. She was a legend, a master of the martial arts known for her unmatched skills in combat and her unyielding resolve. Bandits, warlords, and even the imperial soldiers trembled at her name. For nearly a decade, she had roamed the land, a solitary force who upheld justice where the law could not reach, dealing swift retribution to those who preyed on the weak.

But now, Mei Lian was no longer roaming.

Atop a high, secluded mountain, she had made her home in a modest wooden house. The air here was crisp, free from the stench of cities and the blood-soaked battlefields where she had earned her fearsome reputation. Her house was surrounded by tall pines, with a garden where she grew herbs and vegetables. From this vantage point, she could see the wide expanse of the world below—rolling hills, deep valleys, and distant towns where life continued, oblivious to the storms of violence she had once raged through.

Mei Lian was alone, save for the life growing inside her.

Her hand rested on her swollen belly, feeling the steady, rhythmic movements of the child within. She was near the end of her pregnancy now, her body heavy and slow. It was a strange sensation for someone who had lived her life in the perfection of physical discipline, whose every movement had once been like flowing water—graceful, quick, and deadly. Now, she found herself in a different kind of battle: the quiet, internal struggle of awaiting motherhood.

The child’s father, Liu Zhang, had been a warrior like her, an honorable man who fought beside her during the rebellion against the corrupt local magistrates. They had shared brief moments of peace between battles, moments where the world outside ceased to matter. But he was gone now, killed in the final skirmish that had broken the magistrate’s hold over the region. Mei Lian had taken vengeance swiftly, but after the blood had cooled, she found herself not only alone but pregnant with the last remnant of their love.

In the quiet isolation of her mountain home, she prepared for the child’s arrival as best she could, gathering herbs for medicine, building a fire pit to keep them warm through the cold nights. Yet even here, far from the noise of the world, the legend of the Crimson Tiger had not been forgotten.

One afternoon, as Mei Lian rested in her garden, her senses—sharpened by years of combat—picked up the faintest sound of rustling in the trees. She narrowed her eyes, her hand instinctively reaching for the sword that leaned against the porch. Her movements were slower now, and her belly made certain stances awkward, but Mei Lian was still dangerous. She still remembered the rhythm of every strike, the dance of every blade.

A group of figures emerged from the forest shadows, six in total. They were dressed in ragged black robes, their faces partially hidden by scarves, but Mei Lian recognized the emblem sewn onto their sleeves—the symbol of the Black Talon gang. She had crossed paths with them many years ago, scattering their forces and killing their leader when they had terrorized the countryside. Clearly, they hadn’t forgotten.

The one in front, a tall man with a scar running across his face, stepped forward. His eyes flicked down to Mei Lian’s pregnant belly and then back up to meet her gaze.

"The great Crimson Tiger," he sneered. "We’ve heard the stories. And yet, here you are, living like a hermit, heavy with child. Looks like you’ve softened."

Mei Lian’s eyes remained cold, her hand steady on the hilt of her sword. She said nothing.

"You see, we’re not here to kill you," the man continued, pacing slowly. "At least, not yet. The Black Talon has risen again, and we owe you for what you did to us. But seeing you like this… helpless, vulnerable… we thought it’d be better to wait. To see you suffer first. Maybe we’ll take everything from you again, just like you did to us."

The others chuckled darkly, their hands resting on the hilts of their own weapons, eager to strike.

Mei Lian finally spoke, her voice calm and steady, but laced with quiet fury. "If you wish to die, then take a step closer. But if you value your lives, I suggest you turn around and leave."

The leader’s grin widened. "Oh, I see. Still the fierce Crimson Tiger, even in your condition. But you can’t possibly fight in your—"

Before he could finish his sentence, Mei Lian moved.

With a flick of her wrist, she drew her sword, the gleaming steel cutting through the air with deadly grace. "Come then," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let’s see how brave you are."

The first man lunged at her, overconfident. Mei Lian moved like water, swift and fluid, sidestepping his attack with ease. She struck once, her sword slicing through his defenses and disarming him. He fell to the ground, clutching his wounded arm, groaning in pain. But she had no time to celebrate the victory—another man was already upon her.

This one was faster, but she was faster still. She parried his blow, her movements sharp and precise, though the weight of her belly made her balance more difficult than usual. Her muscles strained with the effort, and each motion required more energy, more focus. But her skill was undeniable. With a swift upward strike, she disarmed the second attacker, sending him crashing to the ground.

The others hesitated, exchanging nervous glances. They had expected an easy victory, but now they were faced with the reality of fighting a legend, pregnant or not. Mei Lian’s chest rose and fell more quickly now, the weight of her pregnancy beginning to take its toll, but her stance remained solid.

Two more came at her together, trying to overwhelm her with numbers. Mei Lian ducked under a swinging sword, her belly brushing against the fabric of her robe as she spun and deflected a second strike. Her movements, though still precise, were slower than she wanted. Her body protested with each step, each twist, the burden of the child inside her pulling her down.

Still, she fought on. She delivered a crushing elbow to one attacker’s chest, sending him sprawling, while her sword slashed across the other’s arm, dropping him to his knees. She was breathless now, her body covered in a light sheen of sweat. The fight was taking more out of her than usual, but she was still standing.

Only two remained.

The leader of the group, watching from the back, finally stepped forward. His eyes were sharp, calculating. He had let his men soften her up, and now, with her breathing ragged and her legs trembling under the weight of her own body, he saw his chance.

"You’ve fought well," he said, his voice cold, "but you’re tiring, Crimson Tiger. You can’t keep this up forever. Let’s end this."

Mei Lian didn’t respond. Her eyes locked on him, her grip tightening on her sword. The leader raised his weapon and moved toward her with measured steps, his movements more controlled than the others. He was skilled, she could tell, and unlike the rest, he wouldn’t underestimate her now.

Their swords clashed in a flurry of strikes, the sound of steel on steel ringing out into the night. The leader was relentless, pressing her harder than his men had, forcing her to block and parry with more effort. Mei Lian’s arms ached, her back strained, and her legs felt like they would give out at any moment. Her belly, heavy and cumbersome, made each movement harder, but she refused to yield.

The fight dragged on, each of them trading blows, but slowly, Mei Lian gained the upper hand. She anticipated his attacks, countering with precision. Her strikes found their mark, cutting into his defenses, and with one final, powerful slash, she knocked the sword from his hand.

The leader stumbled back, falling to his knees, his eyes wide with shock. Blood trickled from a wound on his shoulder, but it was his pride that had suffered the most. He had been utterly defeated.

Mei Lian stood over him, her chest heaving, her sword pointed at his throat. "It’s over," she said, her voice cold and hard. "You’ve lost. I told you before—leave me alone. If you ever come after me again, I will not be so merciful."

The leader’s face twisted in shame and fear. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with desperation. "Please... don’t kill me. I... I was wrong. I beg you, spare me."

Mei Lian’s lip curled in disgust. "You beg for your life now, after sending your men to die for you? You are a coward. You didn’t have the honor to face me yourself until you thought I was weak."

The man lowered his head, his voice trembling. "Please. I won’t come after you again. I swear it."

"Swear all you want," she said, her voice like ice. "But your words mean nothing. You are nothing." She stared down at him, her eyes cold and unrelenting. "You’ll live, but you’ll never forget this day. Your cowardice will follow you for the rest of your life."

As she spoke, a sudden pain ripped through her abdomen, sharp and unexpected. Her breath hitched, and for a moment, her vision blurred. The contraction was sudden and powerful, far more intense than any kind of pain she had felt before. Her hand instinctively flew to her belly, her fingers gripping the fabric of her robe as she tried to steady herself.

The leader saw her falter and, sensing an opportunity, lunged for a hidden dagger at his waist. He moved quickly, hoping to strike her down while she was vulnerable.

But Mei Lian’s instincts were faster than his desperation. In a blur of motion, she raised her sword and, with a single stroke, severed his arm at the elbow. The man’s scream echoed through the forest as he fell to the ground, clutching the bleeding stump where his arm had been.

"You should have listened," she said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Now, that missing arm will remind you of today. Of your failure."

The leader, sobbing in pain and fear, scrambled away, his remaining hand pressing against the wound to stem the bleeding. He stumbled into the trees, disappearing into the night, his cries growing fainter as he fled.

Mei Lian stood alone once more, the forest quiet around her. She watched him go, her body trembling with exhaustion. The pain in her belly was still sharp, her muscles tensing with each passing moment. She dropped her sword, her knees giving way as she sank to the ground, her hands clutching her abdomen. The pain was intense, but she breathed through it, trying to steady her mind.

Minutes passed, and eventually, the pain began to subside. False labor. Her body, exhausted from the fight, had played tricks on her.

She leaned back against a tree, closing her eyes as she caught her breath. The fight was over, but the real battle was still to come.

For now, she needed rest.

Weeks passed since the intense battle that nearly pushed her body to its limits. Mei Lian had taken the time to rest, allowing her body and mind to recover from the strain. Though she had defeated the men, her body had been tested in ways she had never imagined. Her swollen belly had become a constant reminder of the challenges still to come.

But now, she resumed her daily activities, moving with the same grace and strength as always, though slower, more deliberate. Her belly had grown even more, something she hadn’t thought possible. Already large before the fight, it now seemed as if it was on the verge of bursting. The tightness of her skin behind her clothes was ever-present, and even her largest robe could barely contain the sheer roundness of her abdomen. At night, when the weight of the day’s tasks made her feet ache and her back stiffen, she would loosen the robe’s bindings, allowing her belly to be free. As the rope fell away, her belly would spill forward, its vastness unrestrained by the fabric.

It was a sight she had become used to over the months, but even now, she found herself staring at it in awe. Her belly had taken on a life of its own, heavy, round, and impossibly tight. The skin stretched to the very limit, yet not a single mark marred its smooth surface. It was as if her body had been preparing for this moment all along, and now it bore the full weight of the child she carried. The moonlight filtered through the small window of her home, casting a soft glow over the taut surface of her belly. She could see every detail—the way it rose high, nearly blocking her view of her legs, the way it curved outwards in a perfect, enormous dome, stretching her skin to its very limit.

Mei Lian lay back on her bed, her robes loosened, her enormous belly fully exposed in the dim light of her home. She rested her hand on its round, taut surface, feeling the baby shift slightly inside. "How am I supposed to push this out?" she muttered with a wry smile, lightly tracing the tight skin with her fingertips.

As the days grew shorter and the weight of her belly heavier, Mei Lian began her preparations for the birth. She gathered clean cloths, set water to boil, and placed a sturdy blade within arm’s reach—just in case. Every few moments, her sharp eyes scanned the surrounding forest from the window, her senses honed from years of battle. Everything appeared normal: the rustling of leaves in the breeze, the distant calls of animals, the quiet hum of the night. Yet, an uneasy feeling gnawed at her. Something wasn’t right, though she couldn’t quite place what it was.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Mei Lian felt the first stirrings of labor—a tightness in her abdomen that quickly spread into a deep, aching pressure. She inhaled slowly, leaning back against the wall of her home, her mind slipping into the calm focus she had cultivated over years of martial discipline. This was another battle, a different kind, but one that required the same endurance and strength.

The pain intensified, coming in waves now, pulling her deeper into the physical struggle. She knew her time was near. She had prepared for this, just as she had prepared for every battle, every challenge. Everything was in place—the herbs she had gathered, the water she had boiled, the linens she had carefully set aside for the newborn.

But as she moved toward her bed, her body heavy with the strain of the contractions, something caught her attention—a sound. It was faint at first, barely more than the wind slipping through the trees, but it grew louder, unmistakable. The door creaked open, and her heart skipped a beat as the familiar figure stepped into the room.

The Black Talon leader.

Mei Lian’s hand instinctively reached for her sword beside the bed, but the sharp contraction that followed was too much, her body doubling over in pain as she gasped. The blade slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor, and her breath came in ragged bursts as the labor took full control of her.

The leader’s grin widened as he stepped forward, staying just out of reach of her fallen sword. His gaze flicked down to her belly, then back to her face, and he chuckled darkly.

“Ah, the mighty Crimson Tiger,” he said softly, his voice thick with mockery. “Look at you now. Reduced to this. I told you I’d find a way to make you suffer. Watching you in your weakest moment… it’s almost better than killing you.”

You think you’ve hidden yourself well," he began, his voice dripping with mockery. "But I’ve been watching you, waiting for the right time. And now… now you’ve given me the perfect opportunity." His gaze dropped to her belly, round and taut, heavy with the child she was struggling to bring into the world. A twisted grin spread across his face. "Look at you. So… enormous."

Mei Lian’s breath hitched, the pain already mounting inside her, but she refused to show weakness. Not to him. Not to the man who had burned entire villages just to hunt her down. She clung to her dignity, even as her body betrayed her.

"You’re as big as a mountain," he continued, stepping closer to her, his eyes gleaming with cruel delight. "I’ve seen women give birth before—my wife has borne me five children—but not a single one of her pregnancies came close to… this." He waved a hand toward her belly, as if gesturing at a grotesque display. "How in the world will you handle it? With a belly that size, you’re going to suffer for hours… maybe even days."

His words cut like a knife, but Mei Lian kept her gaze locked on him, refusing to let his taunts burrow deeper than they already had. She gritted her teeth against the growing pain, but he seemed to feed off her tension.

"Imagine," he sneered, circling her bed slowly. "You—the Crimson Tiger—known for your strength, your speed, now reduced to this." His eyes gleamed as he took in the sight of her swollen form. "You can’t fight me like this. Not with that enormous belly weighing you down. You’ll be too busy screaming, too busy pushing that monster of a child out to do anything."

He chuckled, the sound low and dark, as if he was savoring every moment of her struggle. "I can already see how hard it is for you, how uncomfortable you must be with all that weight. How can you possibly manage to bring a child like that into the world, hmm? A child so big… maybe even too big for you."

Mei Lian clenched her fists at her sides, her body already slick with sweat, her mind a whirl of pain and fury.

As Mei Lian lay on the bed, her body wracked with pain as labor began, the leader of the Black Talon stood nearby, a smug, twisted grin playing across his lips. His shadow loomed over her like a dark cloud, and she could feel his eyes on her, watching with sadistic pleasure as she struggled to manage the mounting contractions.

Mei Lian gritted her teeth, fighting back a scream as another contraction hit, her body tensing against the wave of pain. Her breath came in short, labored gasps, her mind trying to focus through the agony. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a response, but she couldn’t remain silent. Her honor, her pride as a martial artist, demanded it.

"You’re... disgusting," she managed to spit out between clenched teeth, her voice strained but defiant. "You… can’t even face me in battle… head to head... You have to wait until… I’m at my most vulnerable to strike. This… this is not a warrior’s way. It’s cowardice."

The leader’s smile widened, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he listened to her labored words. "Oh, come now, don’t pretend this is about honor. I’m not here to fight fair, Crimson Tiger. I’ve watched you defeat countless men, and I know that head-to-head, I would fall like the rest. But here… here you are, reduced to a woman in labor, helpless, vulnerable." He chuckled again, stepping closer, watching her closely as her body convulsed with another contraction. "And it’s only just begun, hasn’t it? Look at you… barely able to speak through the pain."

Mei Lian’s body shook with the effort of holding herself together. The pain was growing, the contractions more frequent, her muscles tightening with each wave that passed through her. She could barely catch her breath between the spasms, and the urge to scream was becoming harder to suppress. But she fought it, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

"You… are nothing but a coward," she growled, though her voice cracked as another contraction surged through her. She gasped, her hands gripping the edge of the bed as her legs trembled beneath her. "No courage… no honor…"

Her words were cut off by a sharp cry of pain, her body rebelling against her will as the contraction reached its peak. Her back arched involuntarily, her breath coming in ragged bursts. The baby was coming, and she could feel the pressure mounting, the unbearable stretch inside her. But the leader, standing calmly nearby, merely tilted his head, enjoying the spectacle.

"You really think you’re in any position to lecture me about courage?" he mocked, stepping closer again. "Look at you, trying to hold on to your pride, trying to keep your composure… and failing. Your body betrays you, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I think… I’ll wait a little longer. Watch as that enormous belly of yours gives you more pain. How long until you break?"

Mei Lian’s fists clenched, her knuckles white as she tried to push back against the waves of agony crashing through her. Each word he spoke dug into her like a blade, and the humiliation of being at his mercy in this moment was almost too much to bear. But she wouldn’t give in. She couldn’t.

"Keep talking," she gasped, her voice ragged as she forced herself to look up at him, her eyes blazing with fury despite the tears welling in them. "It’ll… only make your defeat that much sweeter."

The leader smirked, his eyes scanning over her struggling form, his gaze settling on the enormous curve of her belly. "Defeat? You think you’ll come out of this victorious? Not like this. Not with that belly, that… burden. No warrior’s training can help you now." He gave her a mocking look, his voice dripping with scorn. "Just wait… you’ll scream soon enough. And I’ll be right here, enjoying every moment."

Mei Lian’s breath hitched as another contraction hit, this one more brutal than the last. Her body contorted with the pain, and she could feel her legs trembling uncontrollably beneath her. Her thighs, once strong and firm from years of training, now shook with weakness, unable to stand up to the sheer intensity of the labor. The urge to scream welled up inside her, almost impossible to contain. She bit her lip hard, trying to focus, but it was getting harder to maintain her composure.

The leader, noticing her silence, stepped even closer. "Go on… scream. Let it out. I want to hear you scream for me, Crimson Tiger."

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay quiet, but the pain was too much. A guttural cry tore from her throat, despite her efforts to keep it in, and she collapsed forward onto the bed, her body shaking from the effort.

The leader laughed, clearly enjoying every moment of her struggle. "There it is. That’s more like it."

Mei Lian’s eyes burned with fury, but she could do nothing. Another contraction hit, stronger this time, and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. Her body screamed at her to push, but she resisted, her muscles trembling with the effort.

She had never allowed herself to show weakness in front of an enemy. She had never let anyone see her vulnerable. And now, the thought of this man—this vile, spiteful creature—seeing her in the throes of labor, seeing her exposed in the most intimate way, filled her with shame and anger. She clamped her legs shut, her body rigid with tension, as if by sheer will she could stop the birth, stop him from seeing her like this.

The Black Talon leader raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Ah, so you’re trying to keep some dignity, are you? You think you can fight it? How long do you think you’ll last, Crimson Tiger, before the pain forces you to open up? Before you have to let go of that pride?”

Mei Lian glared at him, refusing to answer. The pain was unbearable now, rolling through her like a storm, each contraction more powerful than the last. Her body was betraying her, forcing her toward a place where no battle-hardened warrior could maintain control. She gripped the edge of the bed, her knuckles white, her breathing shallow and rapid as she struggled to contain the pressure building within her.

But the pain—oh, the pain—it was relentless. It demanded that she push, that she surrender to it. Sweat poured down her face, her muscles trembling as she fought to maintain her composure. But the child was coming, whether she willed it or not. The contractions intensified, each one longer and more agonizing than the last.

Finally, a low, guttural groan escaped her lips, and despite her resistance, her legs began to part. The pain was too great, the pressure too overwhelming. She could no longer fight the natural process her body was undergoing. With a gasp, she spread her legs wide, exposing herself completely in front of her enemy, her hands gripping the sheets as another wave of pain coursed through her. A guttural cry tore from her throat, as she throw her head backward, face up the sky: “Nghhh ahhhhhhh”.

The Black Talon leader’s grin widened as he leaned back against the wall. “There you go. That’s it. You can’t fight it forever, can you? No matter how strong you are, in the end, you’re just like every other woman. Weak. Vulnerable.”

Mei Lian’s body shook with exertion, every muscle in her powerful frame straining as she pushed with all her might. Her legs were spread wide, trembling under the immense pressure, her fingers gripping the sheets so hard the fabric was on the verge of tearing. The baby’s head had emerged, just barely, stretching her to her limits, only to retreat again, slipping back inside with agonizing slowness. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her face drenched in sweat, but no matter how hard she tried, it felt like her efforts were in vain.

The leader, standing over her, let out a loud, mocking laugh, the sound echoing cruelly in the small room. “Look at you,” he sneered. “All that strength, all that skill, and you can’t even manage to bring a baby into the world.” He circled her slowly, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched her struggle. “It comes out… then goes right back in,” he said, mimicking the motions with his hand. “What’s wrong, Crimson Tiger? You’re frustrated, aren’t you? All that effort, and yet the baby doesn’t want to stay out.”

Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her eyes stinging with unshed tears of frustration. She wanted to scream, to strike him down, but her body betrayed her, consumed entirely by the pain and pressure of labor. She could feel the baby slipping back again, and her heart sank with the familiar sensation. It was so close, yet impossibly far, and the leader’s taunts only made the ordeal worse.

“Look at you,” he continued, his laughter growing louder with each failed attempt. “You’re trying so hard, pushing and screaming, but the baby just keeps slipping back. It’s almost funny. All your enemies have fallen before you, yet this little one seems to be defeating you.” He shook his head, smirking. “How pathetic.”

Mei Lian’s mind screamed in fury, but her body was no longer her own. The child inside her was demanding to be born, and the pain was forcing her to push with all her might. She bore down, her face contorting in agony as the baby began to crown. She could feel it—so close, so near the surface—but then, just as she thought it would finally emerge, the child retreated again, slipping back inside.

A strangled cry of frustration escaped her lips, and she gripped the bed harder, her body shaking with the effort. She pushed again, her entire being focused on bringing this child into the world, but once more, the baby began to emerge, only to retreat again. It was maddening, the way her body refused to cooperate. The baby teased the world, appearing for a brief moment before sliding back, as if it were mocking her.

The Black Talon leader watched her struggle with dark amusement, his eyes gleaming in the firelight. “What’s the matter, Crimson Tiger? Can’t even manage a simple birth? You’ve killed men with your bare hands, and yet you can’t even push out a child? Maybe all that fighting has made you too stiff.”

Mei Lian’s heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried again and again to push. Each contraction felt like it was tearing her apart from the inside, and the baby’s refusal to fully emerge only deepened her despair. She had fought in the fiercest of battles, endured wounds that would have killed others, but this—this was a battle she had never trained for.

Her vision blurred with tears of frustration, but she refused to give in. She would not be beaten by this. Not by him, and not by her own body. She would bring this child into the world, no matter how much it cost her. The labor dragged on, each minute feeling like an eternity as the baby danced on the edge of life, just out of reach.

“Come on, Mei Lian,” the leader taunted, leaning forward now, his face full of mocking delight. “You can do it. Just one more push, and maybe this time it’ll stay out. Or maybe not. Maybe you’ll just keep struggling, over and over, until you have nothing left. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Her body shook, her muscles screamed in protest, but Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her eyes burning with determination. She gathered every ounce of strength she had left, every bit of willpower that had seen her through countless battles, and pushed again.

Mei Lian's body trembled as she bore down with all her strength, the intensity of the birth overwhelming her senses. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her heart pounding in her ears as the baby’s head finally began to emerge fully. The pressure was immense, like nothing she had ever experienced in battle. The pain coursed through her body in waves, but for the first time, the baby’s head no longer retreated. Progress had been made, and though the pain was excruciating, she felt the smallest glimmer of hope.

But her victory was far from assured.

The Black Talon leader had been watching her closely, his cruel amusement never wavering as she struggled to bring her child into the world. His twisted smile darkened as he realized what was happening—the baby was coming, inch by inch, despite his taunts. His victory over her, the moment he had so patiently waited for, was slipping away.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He rose slowly from where he had been leaning, his eyes narrowed with intent. Mei Lian, between contractions, noticed his movement. She could see the calculating look in his eyes, the way his body tensed, preparing to act. His expression had shifted from amusement to something more dangerous—he wasn’t just here to mock her anymore. He was going to intervene.

“I can’t let this happen, Crimson Tiger,” he said in a low voice, stepping closer. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he didn’t draw it. Instead, his gaze shifted downward, focusing on the baby’s head, which had only just begun to crown. “It would be a shame to let this child live when I could so easily take it all away from you.”

Mei Lian’s heart raced as she realized his intent. Her body tensed with a mixture of pain and fury as she understood that he wasn’t going to kill her—not yet. He wanted to rob her of her child first, to make her suffer by denying the life she was fighting so hard to bring into the world.

“I’ve watched you fight tooth and nail through this,” he sneered, taking another step closer, his eyes gleaming with malevolent glee. “But it seems your baby is just as stubborn as you are. It keeps coming back, but I can fix that.”

He waited, watching her closely as her body tensed with another contraction. It was clear he was waiting for her moment of greatest pain, the moment she would be most vulnerable. Mei Lian gritted her teeth, forcing herself to breathe through the pain, to stay calm even as every nerve in her body screamed for her to push, to keep fighting for the life of her child.

But instead of pushing, she did the opposite. She slumped back against the bed, allowing herself to groan loudly, letting her eyes flutter shut in an exaggerated show of exhaustion. Her breathing became shallow, her hand falling limply to the side. Though the pain was very real and intense, Mei Lian forced herself to act as though it was too much, as though she had no strength left to resist.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the Black Talon leader said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Finally showing your true weakness.”

He stepped closer, crouching down beside her, his face a mask of cruel delight. He reached out toward the baby’s head, his fingers stretching forward as if he could simply push the child back inside her, as if he could undo all her progress with a single motion.

Mei Lian’s heart pounded with a mixture of terror and fury, but she kept her breathing shallow, her body limp. She had learned long ago that the best way to defeat an enemy wasn’t always through brute force but through patience and strategy. She had let him believe she was defeated, let him believe he had the upper hand.

And as his fingers brushed the baby’s head, Mei Lian’s eyes snapped open.

With a sudden surge of strength, she raised her leg and delivered a powerful kick to his face, her foot connecting with his nose in a sickening crunch. The Black Talon leader’s eyes widened in shock for a split second, realizing it when its already too late. The kick feels like every kicks she has ever delivered combined into one. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

Mei Lian had done it. The danger was gone, at least for the moment, and now she could focus entirely on the task at hand.

But as the adrenaline faded, the pain of the labor returned tenfold. The strike had made the baby slipped in again. Mei Lian gripped the edges of the bed, her breath coming in ragged gasps as her body was once again seized by the brutal force of the contractions. She no longer had the luxury of distraction—this was the battle that demanded everything she had left.

Her muscles strained, every inch of her body on fire as she bore down, trying to push the baby further out. The head was there, emerging little by little, but each time she thought she was making progress, the child seemed to slip back just a little, as if refusing to fully enter the world.

Sweat poured down her face, dripping onto the sheets, and her breath came in desperate, shallow gasps. Her legs shook with the effort, and her body screamed for relief, but the baby refused to come easily. Mei Lian gritted her teeth, her mind filled with frustration as the head inched forward, only to retreat again. It was maddening. She had never felt so powerless, so out of control.

She tried pushing again, harder this time, her body trembling with the effort. The pain was unbearable, searing through her like fire, but she bore down, focusing every ounce of her strength on bringing the baby into the world. Her muscles tensed, her breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, and for a moment, she thought she had made progress.

The head slipped a little further out, and for the briefest second, hope surged through her. But then the baby retreated once more, and Mei Lian let out a cry of frustration, her body collapsing back against the bed.

The firelight flickered in the room, casting long shadows across the floor. Outside, the wind howled through the trees, but inside, all Mei Lian could hear was the sound of her own labored breathing.

Her body was tired. So tired. But there was no choice but to keep fighting.

Mei Lian inhaled deeply, gathering her strength once more. She couldn’t afford to give up now. She had fought through too much, endured too much pain to let this final challenge defeat her. The baby was close, so close, but it would take everything she had left to bring it fully into the world.

She closed her eyes, centering herself as she had so many times before in battle. She slowed her breathing, calming her mind despite the chaos of her body. The next contraction hit, and this time, she pushed with all her might, focusing on the baby’s head, on moving it just a little further out.

The baby responded, inching forward, the pressure building as its head stretched the limits of her body. Mei Lian’s muscles burned, her legs trembling uncontrollably, but she kept pushing, refusing to let the pain stop her.

The baby’s head emerged a little further, and this time, it stayed.

But she knew the hardest part was still ahead. The shoulders had yet to come, and the baby’s body still needed to follow. The contractions slowed for a brief moment, giving her a merciful pause, but Mei Lian knew that this was far from over.

She took the brief respite to steady her breathing, her hands gripping the sheets tightly as she prepared for the next wave of pain. The baby was nearly there, but the birth was far from done.

The next chapter of her battle was about to begin.

The room seemed to shrink around her, the walls pressing in as Mei Lian lay on the bed, legs spread as wide as they could go, her body straining, stretched to its absolute limit. She could feel the baby’s head pushing against her, a searing pressure that made her want to scream, and she did, the sound tearing from her throat in a way that she hadn’t allowed herself to do before. Her powerful legs, the same ones that had delivered so many decisive kicks in battle, now trembled uncontrollably, utterly useless in this moment of life and death.

Her legs couldn’t help her now.

Her arms, once strong enough to defeat entire groups of thugs, lay beside her, limp and shaking, unable to provide any aid. It was an overwhelming realization, one that hit her harder than any punch or sword strike ever had. For years, she had trained her body—her arms, her legs, her mind—sharpening them into weapons that could take down any opponent. She had relied on them, on her strength, her control. But now, here in the throes of labor, they were nothing but quivering limbs, trembling and shaking with the effort of trying to bring her child into the world.

Mei Lian’s breath came in gasps, her chest heaving as another contraction gripped her, pulling her deeper into the relentless pain. Her legs, once so solid and sure, now buckled beneath the weight of her labor. They couldn’t support her. They couldn’t carry her through this battle.

Her mind reeled at the absurdity of it, at how all her years of training, all her discipline, were worthless here. She could take a life with a single blow, but now, bringing one into the world, she was helpless.

The baby’s head was there, pushing against her, stretching her body beyond what she thought was possible. Her legs spread even wider, as if they couldn’t get any further apart, yet still, it wasn’t enough. The baby was stuck, just barely crowning, and no amount of strength seemed to make it move forward. Mei Lian felt her will beginning to crumble, the frustration building inside her like a storm.

Tears welled in her eyes, and her breath hitched as she stared down at her enormous belly, which had become her greatest challenge. It rose like a mountain, stubborn and unyielding, mocking her with its stillness. Despite her best efforts, despite the sweat pouring from her body and the pain tearing through her, the belly remained, unmoved, unshaken.

It was as if her own body were conspiring against her, refusing to let go, to release the child she so desperately wanted to meet. Her hands moved almost unconsciously, trembling as they pressed against her belly, fingers splayed wide. She could feel the hardness beneath her skin, the baby waiting just beneath the surface, but no matter how much she pushed, the mountain remained.

She broke, tears spilling from her eyes, her voice raw as she whispered through her sobs. “Please… please, baby, come out,” she begged, her voice cracked and hoarse. “I can’t do this alone. Please… please…”

Her hands dug into her belly, massaging the taut skin, her breath ragged as she sobbed through the pain. Her body screamed for release, her heart cried out for her child, but the baby remained stubbornly lodged in place. Mei Lian’s frustration boiled over, a mixture of helplessness and anger that she had never felt before. How could she, the Crimson Tiger, who had faced down death so many times, be defeated like this?

But the labor was relentless. Another contraction hit, even stronger than before, and Mei Lian felt the burning sensation grow more intense as the baby’s head began to shift. The pressure was unimaginable, her body straining as she bore down, pushing with everything she had left. This time, there was progress—slow, agonizing progress, but it was there.

The baby was moving forward.

Her breath caught in her throat as she felt it, inch by inch, the head creeping forward. Her entire body trembled with the effort, every muscle taut as she fought to bring the child into the world. Mei Lian gripped the edges of the bed so tightly her knuckles turned white, her legs trembling violently as she bore down, her body shaking with exertion.

The baby’s head moved again, just a little further, and a sharp cry escaped her lips, her voice a mixture of pain and hope. The pressure was immense, the burning stretching sensation unbearable, but she was making progress. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the baby inched forward, each push bringing it closer to the world.

Mei Lian’s tears mixed with the sweat pouring down her face, but she didn’t care anymore. She didn’t care about the pain, or the exhaustion, or the fact that her powerful legs were now trembling like those of a newborn fawn. All that mattered was the child, and the need to bring it into the world. The contractions hit again, and she pushed once more, her body quivering as the baby’s head came further, inch by inch.

Her sobs turned to groans of effort as she gave another push, her hands pressing down on her belly, trying to help the baby along. The head was nearly there now, so close, but still, it felt like an eternity before it would be free. Each push felt like a battle won, but each victory was short-lived as the baby resisted, stubbornly inching forward in its own time.

Mei Lian screamed, the sound raw and guttural, as she gave one final, desperate push. The baby’s head moved further, finally passing the point of no return. The sensation was a mix of pain and relief, her body straining, stretched to the limit, but she could feel the shift.

Several more pushes later, the baby’s head emerged fully, its slick, round form finally free from the grip of her body. Mei Lian collapsed back against the bed, her chest heaving, her heart pounding in her ears as she gasped for breath.

The hardest part wasn’t over yet, but the baby’s head was out. The rest of the body would follow soon.

Mei Lian’s chest heaved, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she lay back, feeling the baby’s head fully emerge. She had done it—or so she thought. But as she tried to push again, hoping the rest of the baby would follow, her body met resistance. The shoulders—broad and unyielding—were stuck.

A new wave of frustration surged through her. The baby was so close, yet still, it would not come. Mei Lian pushed with all her might, every fiber of her being straining, but the shoulders refused to budge. The sensation was maddening. She could feel the child so close, practically at the edge of entering the world, but her body wouldn’t release it. The pressure was unbearable, the pain relentless, and her will—so strong throughout the labor—began to crumble.

She groaned in agony, her voice raw with frustration. Her powerful legs, which had carried her through battles and knocked out countless foes, were trembling beneath her, completely useless in this moment of pure, primal struggle. She shifted her position, trying to adjust, but nothing worked. The baby’s shoulders remained stuck.

Mei Lian’s eyes blurred with tears, her mind racing. **There had to be a way. There had to be a way.**

Her gaze fell to her enormous belly, still rising high and swollen, mocking her efforts once more. It hung heavy and round, her skin pulled tight, yet it felt as though no matter how hard she pushed, her body was holding on, refusing to let the child out. She let out a guttural cry, pressing her hands to the firm mound of her stomach as if willing it to release the baby.

The weight of her belly, the heaviness of it, seemed almost unbearable now, like a burden she had been carrying for far too long. It hung low, unmoving, despite all the strength she had poured into pushing. Tears blurred her vision as she clutched her swollen belly, her voice breaking into desperate sobs. "Please… please, baby… please just come out," she whispered, her strong, battle-hardened hands trembling as they pressed against her taut skin. "I can't… I can't take this anymore. Please come out of me…" Her composure shattered, she wept openly, feeling utterly vulnerable, overwhelmed by the unbearable pain and the helplessness of it all.

But the baby remained lodged, the shoulders stuck in place, refusing to slide free.

Desperation clawed at her, but in the back of her mind, her training kicked in. She needed to change her position. The battle wasn’t lost yet. She had always been adaptable in a fight, always able to shift her stance and find the advantage. Maybe, just maybe, if she could find the right position, she could free the baby.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Mei Lian shifted her weight, rolling onto her hands and knees. The movement was agonizing, her body screaming in protest, but she had no choice. She buried her face into the mattress, gripping it with trembling fingers. Her knees spread wide, and her belly hung low, almost touching the bed beneath her. Her buttocks rose high in the air, her body bent forward, exposing herself completely to the empty room.

She had never felt so vulnerable, so raw and exposed.

Her mind briefly flashed to the battles she had fought, the men she had faced down without hesitation or fear. Yet here she was, in the most private, the most intimate of battles, her body betraying her in its moment of greatest need. It wasn’t the fists of an enemy or the edge of a blade that she fought against now—it was her own body, and the child she so desperately wanted to bring into the world.

The position was humiliating, her body completely open and bared, but Mei Lian no longer cared. Pride meant nothing now. All that mattered was freeing the baby.

Another contraction hit, stronger than ever, and Mei Lian let out a fierce scream, her fingers digging into the mattress as she pushed with everything she had. Her back arched, her belly hanging low and swaying as she strained. She bore down hard, pushing her buttocks backward, trying to make as much room as possible for the baby to descend.

The pressure was overwhelming, the feeling of the baby’s broad shoulders stretching her beyond anything she had experienced before. Her legs trembled with the effort, her fingers clutching the mattress desperately as if it could anchor her through the storm of pain.

Her scream grew louder, raw and guttural, as she felt the baby shift inside her. The new position was helping, but it was still slow, agonizing progress. She pushed harder, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her entire body shaking with the effort. Her mind teetered on the edge of exhaustion, the relentless pain making her feel as though she couldn’t continue, but she had no choice. The baby was coming, and she had to bring it into the world.

The shoulders, once so firmly lodged, began to move.

Mei Lian could feel it—the slow, gradual release as the baby’s shoulders began to slide free. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever experienced before—painful and yet filled with the faintest hint of relief. Her legs shook, her arms trembling as she gripped the mattress, her face pressed into the bedding.

She pushed again, harder this time, her voice a hoarse cry as she bore down, her hips swaying slightly as she pushed her buttocks back even further. The pressure was immense, the baby’s shoulders moving ever so slowly, but it was happening. The baby was coming.

Another push, and this time she felt it—the shoulders finally sliding free, the baby’s body following in one smooth, agonizing motion. The relief was immediate, though the exhaustion hit her like a wave, her entire body trembling with the effort she had expended.

Mei Lian let out a final, breathless scream as the child was born, its small, slick body slipping from her and into the world. She collapsed forward onto the bed, her face pressed into the mattress, her chest heaving with deep, ragged breaths. The pain began to ebb, replaced by a dull, throbbing ache, but the overwhelming sensation that filled her now was one of pure, unfiltered relief.

The battle was over. The baby was here.

She remained there for a moment, her body still trembling from the effort, her breath shaky as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. The room felt eerily quiet after the storm of her labor, the only sound the faint whimper of the newborn child behind her.

Slowly, painfully, Mei Lian shifted, turning to look at the baby she had fought so hard to bring into the world. The child lay there, slick with birth, tiny and perfect, its small cries filling the room.

Tears welled in her eyes again, but this time, they were tears of joy, of relief, of triumph.

The Crimson Tiger had fought her hardest battle—and won.

[whywontyoucomeout]

big birth video

[whywontyoucomeout]

The one with the shadows

————————————-

The full moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the sprawling grounds of Edo Castle. Perched on a nearby hilltop, Akira surveyed her target with keen eyes. The legendary "Shadow Wind" had accepted many challenging contracts, but this one promised to test even her unparalleled skills.

The castle was a formidable fortress. High stone walls surrounded the complex, topped with sharpened bamboo spikes. Akira counted at least twenty guards patrolling the outer perimeter, their armor glinting in the moonlight. Watchtowers stood at regular intervals, manned by alert archers scanning the grounds below.

Akira's lips curved into a small smile. The daimyo's paranoia had turned his home into a veritable prison, but no defense was impenetrable to one with her skills. She began to formulate her plan, analyzing every shadow, every blind spot in the guards' routines.

As silent as a whisper, Akira descended from her vantage point. She approached the castle walls, timing her movements to coincide with the shifting shadows cast by passing clouds. When she reached the base of the wall, she paused, listening intently for any sign that she had been detected.

Satisfied, Akira began her ascent. Her fingers found nearly invisible cracks and crevices in the weathered stone. She scaled the sheer wall with inhuman grace, her body moving with fluid precision honed by years of rigorous training. At the top, she deftly avoided the bamboo spikes, balancing on the narrow edge of the wall like a tightrope walker.

A guard passed directly below her, oblivious to her presence. Akira held her breath, staying perfectly still until he had moved on. Then, in one smooth motion, she leapt from the wall, landing silently in a shadowy corner of the inner courtyard.

Moving from shadow to shadow, Akira made her way towards the main keep. She froze as a pair of samurai rounded a corner, engaging in quiet conversation. Without missing a beat, Akira scaled a nearby tree, concealing herself among its branches until the danger passed.

Finally, she reached the daimyo's private chambers. A quick examination revealed a window left slightly ajar - an oversight that would prove costly for the castle's occupants.

Silently, she slipped into the daimyo's private chambers. The portly noble lay snoring on his opulent futon, oblivious to the intruder. Akira's eyes scanned the room, searching for the hidden compartment containing the scrolls she sought.

As she moved towards a suspicious-looking panel, her loose-fitting garments shifted, revealing the swell of her pregnant belly. Akira paused, placing a gentle hand on her abdomen. In the moonlight filtering through the window, her condition was unmistakable - the feared Shadow Wind was heavily with child.

Just as her fingers found the latch of the hidden compartment, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her. Akira froze, gritting her teeth against the unexpected contraction. She held her breath, willing herself to remain silent, but a small gasp escaped her lips.

The daimyo stirred in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. Akira remained perfectly still, her heart pounding. After what felt like an eternity, the nobleman's breathing deepened once more, indicating he had fallen back into a deep slumber.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Akira gently caressed her swollen belly. "Please, not now, little one," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "We're almost done here."

With renewed focus, she retrieved the scrolls and secured them within her garments. Casting one last glance at the sleeping daimyo, Akira slipped out of the room and made her way through the castle grounds, as silent and invisible as a shadow.

Once beyond the castle walls, Akira raced through the surrounding forest. Several more contractions hit her as she ran, causing her to pause momentarily each time. However, she noticed that they were becoming less intense and more irregular.

As she leaped over a small stream, Akira realized with relief that it had been false labor. A small smile played on her lips as she addressed her unborn child, "Trying to keep your mother on her toes, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll have plenty of real adventures soon enough."

The contractions gradually subsided as Akira continued her journey through the night. Her steps were light, buoyed by the successful mission and the knowledge that her child was safe and content within her.

Akira slipped through the shadows of the forest, her breathing steady despite the night's exertions. The stolen scrolls were securely hidden in a secret compartment of her garments. As she neared her isolated mountain hideout, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Another contract completed, another hefty bounty earned.

The false labor pains that had troubled her during the mission had subsided, leaving only the familiar weight of her unborn child. Akira placed a hand on her swollen belly as she approached the hidden entrance to her home, a cave concealed behind a waterfall.

Inside, Akira carefully stored the scrolls in a locked chest before finally allowing herself to relax. She sank onto a pile of soft furs, her back against the cool cave wall.

"We did it, little one," she murmured, caressing her belly. "Your mother's still the best, even with you along for the ride." She felt a strong kick in response and chuckled softly. "Already eager for action, aren't you? You'll be a force to be reckoned with, just like your mother."

As Akira rested, she reflected on the path that had led her to this moment. Orphaned at a young age, she had been taken in by an aging ninja master who recognized her potential. Under his tutelage, Akira had honed her skills to near perfection, surpassing even her mentor's expectations.

By the time she was eighteen, Akira had already made a name for herself in the shadowy world of ninja and assassins. She took on contracts that others deemed impossible, completing them with a level of skill and precision that left even her employers in awe.

Unlike most ninja, Akira chose to work alone. She answered to no clan, no daimyo, no shogun. Her loyalty was to herself alone - and soon, to her child. This independence, combined with her unparalleled skills, had earned her a fearsome reputation.

In the teahouses of Edo, in the war rooms of ambitious daimyo, in the hidden gatherings of rival ninja clans, Akira's name was spoken in hushed tones. Some called her "The Shadow Wind," for her ability to slip in and out of the most secure locations without a trace. Others knew her as "The Silent Blade," a nod to her lethal efficiency.

Most had never seen her face or knew her true identity. But all feared the possibility of becoming her target. Powerful warlords slept uneasily, knowing that their strongest defenses were as paper to Akira's skills. Corrupt merchants and scheming courtiers glanced nervously over their shoulders, wondering if their misdeeds had earned them a place on her list.

Yet for all her notoriety, Akira found a strange sort of peace in her solitude. Here in her hidden home, with only her unborn child for company, she could let down her guard and simply be.

"What do you think, little one?" she asked, running her hand over her belly. "Should we retire after this? Find a quiet village somewhere and live a normal life?" The baby kicked again, and Akira laughed. "No, I didn't think so either. There's too much excitement out there for us to give it up just yet."

As the night deepened, Akira prepared for sleep. She checked her traps and alarms, more out of habit than necessity - few would dare to hunt for her, and fewer still would have the skills to find this place.

Lying down on her bed of furs, Akira continued to talk softly to her child, sharing stories of her adventures and plans for the future. "I'll teach you everything I know," she promised. "And then you'll forge your own path, create your own legend."

With one hand resting protectively on her belly, Akira drifted off to sleep. The most feared ninja in Japan slumbered peacefully, dreaming of the new adventure that awaited her - motherhood.

Here's the continuation of the story with the details you requested, including verbal dialogue:

The following morning, Akira made her way to a nondescript teahouse in a bustling market district. Inside, she found her contact, a middle-aged merchant named Hiroshi, seated in a private booth.

"Ah, the Shadow Wind graces me with her presence," Hiroshi said, his eyes widening as he took in Akira's pregnant form. "I must admit, I had my doubts when I heard of your... condition. But you've proven your reputation once again."

Akira smoothly produced the stolen scrolls. "Your doubts were misplaced. Here's what you requested."

Hiroshi examined the scrolls, nodding with satisfaction. "Exceptional work, as always. Your payment, as agreed." He slid a heavy pouch across the table.

As Akira secured the pouch, Hiroshi cleared his throat. "If I may ask, when do you plan to... rest and welcome your child?"

"Soon," Akira replied, a hand resting on her swollen belly. "This was likely my last job for a while."

Hiroshi nodded, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Well then, I wish you the best of luck with the little one. May your child be as formidable as their mother."

Akira allowed herself a small smile. "Thank you, Hiroshi. Until we meet again."

Leaving the teahouse, Akira felt a wave of relief wash over her. The weight of the coin pouch at her hip assured her that she could provide well for her child's arrival.

Her next stop was the local midwife, an elderly woman named Hana. As Akira lay on the examination mat, Hana's practiced hands moved over her belly.

"My, my," Hana chuckled, "this is quite the impressive little one you're carrying. Strong and healthy, from what I can tell."

Akira couldn't help but smile. "That's wonderful to hear. Though I must admit, the size is a bit... daunting."

Hana nodded sympathetically. "Yes, it's a sizable baby indeed. I won't lie to you, the delivery may be challenging."

Akira looked down at her protruding belly, running a hand over its curve. "I suspected as much. This little one seems determined to make everything a challenge, even before entering the world."

"Just like their mother, I imagine," Hana said with a knowing smile. "But don't worry too much. You're strong and healthy yourself. With proper preparation and care, I'm confident you'll manage the delivery just fine."

As Akira sat up, she felt a powerful kick from within. "Well, little one," she murmured, "it seems you're eager to prove the midwife right about your strength."

Hana laughed. "A spirited child, without a doubt. Now, let's discuss your birthing plan and what you can expect in the coming weeks..."

As Akira left the midwife's house later, she felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The reality of impending motherhood was setting in, but she was determined to face this new challenge with the same courage and skill she brought to her work as the Shadow Wind.

The next morning, Akira rose with the sun, determined to maintain her skills despite her advancing pregnancy. She made her way to a secluded clearing near her hideout, the perfect spot for her daily training regimen.

As she began her warm-up exercises, Akira couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "This would be so much easier without you, little one," she said, patting her swollen belly. "But I suppose you're just helping me stay on my toes."

She moved through a series of stretches, her body still remarkably flexible despite her condition. As she transitioned into more complex movements, Akira marveled at how her center of gravity had shifted. "You're certainly making your presence known," she murmured, looking down at her protruding abdomen. "I've never seen my belly so round and full."

Despite the added challenge, Akira's form remained beautiful and graceful. Her limbs moved with fluid precision as she practiced her katas, each motion a testament to years of rigorous training. Her long, dark hair, tied back in a practical braid, swayed with her movements.

As the morning wore on, Akira focused on exercises designed to strengthen her core and pelvic muscles. "This should help when it's time for you to make your grand entrance," she said, addressing her unborn child.

After a brief rest and light meal, Akira spent the afternoon honing her weapon skills. Though her movements were slightly slower than usual, her accuracy remained impeccable. Shuriken thudded into targets with deadly precision, and her katana flashed in the sunlight as she moved through complex sword forms.

"Not bad," she said, admiring her handiwork. "We make quite the team, you and I."

As the sun began to set, Akira concluded her training with meditation and breathing exercises. These not only centered her mind but also prepared her body for the challenges of childbirth.

Exhausted but satisfied, Akira made her way back to her hideout. She prepared a nourishing meal, eating heartily to replenish her energy and provide for her growing child.

As she settled into bed, Akira ran her hands over her swollen belly one last time. "Rest well, little one," she whispered. "We both need our strength for the adventures ahead."

With a contented sigh, Akira drifted off into a deep, restful sleep. Her body, honed by years of training and now nurturing new life, relaxed completely. Even in sleep, one hand remained protectively over her belly, a silent promise of the fierce love and protection she would provide for her child.

The following day, as Akira was preparing her morning tea, a messenger bird arrived with a note from Hiroshi. Intrigued, she unrolled the small scroll and read its contents.

An hour later, she found herself once again in the secluded booth of the teahouse, facing Hiroshi.

"I wouldn't have called you if it wasn't important," Hiroshi began, his expression grave. "There's a mission. It's dangerous, more so than usual, but the reward is substantial."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"It involves threatening a tyrant, a daimyo who's been pushing his weight around. The client wants him... discouraged from certain actions."

Akira's hand instinctively moved to her swollen belly. "Hiroshi, you know I'm close to my due date. I was planning to lay low until the birth."

Hiroshi nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know, and I wouldn't ask if there weren't more at stake. This daimyo, he's planning to impose heavy taxes on a village. Your hometown, Akira."

Akira's eyes widened, her jaw tightening. "What? But they're already struggling as it is."

"Exactly. This could devastate them."

Akira fell silent, her mind racing. After a long moment, she spoke. "I'll do it. Not for the money, but for my people."

Hiroshi handed her a scroll with the details. "Be careful, Akira. And... good luck."

Back in her hideout, Akira spread out the mission details on her table, her mind already formulating plans. As she worked, she found herself talking to her unborn child.

"Well, little one, it seems we have one last mission before you arrive," she said, caressing her belly. "I know it's risky, but I can't let our people suffer. You understand, don't you?"

She felt a strong kick in response and smiled. "I'll take that as a yes. Now, let's see how we can pull this off."

As night fell, Akira finalized her plans. Sitting on her bed, she looked down at her swollen abdomen. "Alright, my child, I need you to do me a favor. This mission is important, and I need to be at my best. So please, wait until after we're done to make your grand entrance, okay? Just a little longer."

She felt another kick, as if in agreement.

"That's my little ninja," Akira chuckled. "Now, let's get some rest. Tomorrow, we show this tyrant why they should fear the Shadow Wind... and why they should never threaten our home."

With that, Akira lay down, one hand protectively over her belly, her mind focused on the challenge ahead. Despite the risks, she felt a sense of purpose. This wasn't just about her anymore; it was about protecting her child's future and the future of her village. With that resolve, she drifted off to sleep, ready to face whatever the next day might bring.

The full moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the tyrant's fortress. From the depths of one such shadow, Akira emerged, her black garb melding seamlessly with the darkness. Her heavily pregnant form was barely discernible, a slight bulge in the night.

With practiced ease, Akira approached the outer wall. Her nimble fingers found purchase in the tiniest cracks, and she began her ascent. Despite her added weight, she moved with fluid grace, each movement calculated and precise. At the top, she paused, scanning the courtyard below.

Guards patrolled in predictable patterns. Akira timed her descent perfectly, landing silently between rotations. She darted from shadow to shadow, her footsteps muffled by years of training.

As she neared the inner keep, voices approached. With no time to retreat, Akira squeezed into a narrow gap between two buildings. Her back pressed against one wall, her swollen belly protruding slightly into the open. A bead of sweat formed on her brow as two guards passed by, engaged in idle chatter. One guard paused, mere inches from her hiding spot. Akira held her breath, willing her child to remain still. After a heart-stopping moment, the guard moved on, none the wiser.

Exhaling silently, Akira continued her infiltration. She scaled the inner walls with the same fluid motions, though her movements were noticeably slower, her body adapting to its new shape.

Finally, she reached the tyrant's chambers. Slipping in through an unlatched window, Akira found herself in a lavishly decorated room. There, on an ornate bed, lay her target, sleeping soundly.

A small, satisfied smile played on Akira's lips. Despite the challenges, she had made it. The Shadow Wind had struck again.

But as she took a step towards the sleeping tyrant, a sudden, sharp pain lanced through her abdomen. Akira's hand flew to her belly, her eyes widening in surprise and dawning realization.

"No," she whispered, barely audible. "Not now. Please, not now."

As if in defiance of her plea, another contraction gripped her. Akira's confident smile faded, replaced by a look of concern and disbelief.

The Shadow Wind, master of stealth and timing, found herself facing an adversary she couldn't outmaneuver: the imminent arrival of her child.

Akira gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus through the pain. In the brief respites between contractions, she moved swiftly towards the sleeping tyrant. Despite her condition, her movements were still graceful and silent.

As she approached, the tyrant's eyes snapped open. Before he could cry out, Akira's blade was at his throat.

"Not a sound," she hissed, her voice low and menacing. "Unless you wish to breathe your last."

The tyrant's eyes widened in fear. "W-what do you want?" he stammered.

"The tax on my village. Cancel it. Now." Akira's voice was steel, betraying none of the discomfort she felt.

"I... I can't just-"

"You can, and you will," Akira interrupted, pressing the blade closer.

The tyrant swallowed hard. "Alright, alright! I'll cancel it. Just please, don't-"

Suddenly, the most intense contraction yet wracked Akira's body. A small cry of pain escaped her lips, and her grip on the blade faltered.

The tyrant's eyes narrowed, comprehension dawning. He rolled away, scrambling to a safer distance. "Well, well," he sneered, reaching for a nearby sword. "The feared assassin, brought low by her own womb."

Akira straightened, her face a mask of determination despite the pain. With a flick of her wrist, a hidden blade shot out, knocking the sword from the tyrant's hand.

Enraged, the tyrant lunged at her. Despite her condition, Akira moved with surprising agility. She sidestepped his charge, using his momentum to send him sprawling to the floor.

In moments, she had him pinned, her foot on his chest and her blade once again at his throat. The tyrant's bravado crumbled, replaced by naked fear.

"P-please," he whimpered. "Spare me. I'll do anything."

Akira looked down at him, realizing with a touch of amusement that her swollen belly blocked her view of his face. She had to sway slightly to meet his terrified gaze.

"The tax. Cancel it. And if I hear of any retaliation against the village, I will return. And next time, I won't be so merciful."

"Yes, yes! I swear it! The tax is cancelled!"

Akira stepped back, allowing the tyrant to scramble to his feet. As he fumbled for a quill and parchment to make the decree official, she felt another contraction building. She knew her time was short.

"Remember this night," she warned as she took the signed decree. "Remember the mercy of the Shadow Wind. And the consequences of crossing her."

With that, Akira slipped out of the window, leaving the shaken tyrant behind. As she made her way out of the fortress, moving as swiftly as her condition allowed, one thought dominated her mind: she needed to find a safe place, and fast. Her child was coming, whether she was ready or not.

Akira moved swiftly through the fortress, her steps silent despite her condition. Every few minutes, another contraction would grip her, forcing her to pause and lean against a wall for support.

"Please, little one," she whispered, her hand on her swollen belly. "Just a bit longer. We're almost out."

As she neared her exit point, voices approached. Akira quickly ducked behind a large decorative vase, pressing herself against the wall. Her protruding belly, however, refused to cooperate fully, still visible from certain angles.

Just as the guards were about to pass, another powerful contraction hit. Akira bit her lip to stifle a groan, but couldn't stop her body from tensing. The slight movement caught one guard's attention.

"Hey, did you see that?" he said, gesturing towards Akira's hiding spot.

In an instant, Akira knew her cover was blown. As the three guards approached, weapons drawn, she sprang into action.

The first guard barely had time to register her presence before Akira's foot connected with his solar plexus, sending him stumbling backward, gasping for air.

The second guard swung his sword in a wide arc. Akira ducked under the blade, her pregnant belly making the maneuver more challenging than usual. As she came up, she drove the heel of her hand into the guard's chin, snapping his head back and dazing him.

The third guard, more cautious after seeing his comrades fall, circled Akira warily. He feinted left, then struck right, but Akira read his movements easily. She sidestepped the attack, grabbed his outstretched arm, and used his own momentum to flip him over her hip. The guard hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him.

The first guard, having recovered his breath, charged at Akira with a roar. She waited until the last moment, then pivoted, allowing him to rush past her. As he stumbled, off-balance, Akira delivered a precise strike to the back of his neck, rendering him unconscious.

The second guard, still dazed but determined, lunged forward with his sword. Akira parried the blade with her armored gauntlet, then countered with a swift knee to his midsection. As he doubled over, she brought her elbow down on the back of his head, dropping him to the floor.

The third guard, having regained his feet, took one look at his fallen comrades and turned to flee, likely to raise the alarm. Akira couldn't allow that. With practiced aim, she threw a small, weighted cord. It wrapped around the guard's ankles, sending him crashing to the ground.

In moments, all three guards lay incapacitated. Akira stood among them, breathing heavily. The fight had been swift and decisive, but in her condition, it had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

Knowing that time was of the essence, Akira quickly bound and gagged the guards, hiding them in a nearby storage room. Then, moving as fast as her pregnant body would allow, she made her way to the exit.

With one final look back at the fortress, Akira slipped into the surrounding woods. The dense foliage swallowed her form, the Shadow Wind once again becoming one with the darkness. But as she moved deeper into the forest, seeking a safe haven, she knew her greatest challenge still lay ahead. Her child was coming, and the safety of the woods would have to serve as her birthing chamber

.

As Akira moved deeper into the forest, she placed a gentle hand on her belly. "Thank you, little one, for staying calm during the fight. You truly are a warrior's child."

However, her relief was short-lived as the contractions returned with increasing intensity. Each wave of pain grew stronger, the intervals between them shortening. Akira pressed on, determined to reach her hideout, but fate had other plans.

As a cave came into view, a particularly powerful contraction brought Akira to her knees. She gasped, realizing she wouldn't make it home. "It seems you've chosen your own birthing place, little one," she murmured, making her way to the cave.

Inside, Akira quickly assessed her surroundings. She removed her outer garments, arranging them to create a makeshift mattress on the cave floor. As she shed her constrictive clothing, her belly seemed to expand even further, finally free from its confines.

Akira marveled at the sight of her bare abdomen. Her once toned stomach had transformed into an enormous, perfectly round sphere. It protruded impressively, a testament to the life growing within. "No wonder you were making things difficult, little one," she said with a mixture of awe and amusement. "You've grown so much."

As the sun began to rise, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold, Akira found herself in the throes of labor. She pushed with all her might, drawing on the same strength and determination that had served her so well as the Shadow Wind. Yet, despite her efforts, progress was slow.

"Come now, my child," Akira coaxed between contractions. "Earlier you were so eager, and now you hesitate? The world awaits you."

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Akira continued her labor, her body working tirelessly to bring her child into the world. Though exhausted, she remained focused, her warrior's spirit unbroken.

As midday approached, Akira realized with a mix of frustration and admiration that her child seemed to have taken her earlier pleas to heart. "I asked you to wait until after the mission, and you listened well," she said, a wry smile on her face despite her discomfort. "But now, little one, it's time to join me. Let's meet face to face at last."

And so, in the secluded cave, surrounded by the sounds of the forest, Akira continued her most challenging and rewarding mission yet - bringing new life into the world.

As the labor continued with little progress, Akira found her legendary patience tested. The baby would begin to emerge, only to retreat as she paused to catch her breath. This cycle repeated, wearing down her resolve with each iteration.

Finally, overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, Akira let out a primal scream. The sound echoed through the cave, a stark contrast to her usual silent demeanor. In this moment of vulnerability, several realizations washed over her.

The pain she endured was unlike anything she had experienced before. Her well-honed body, capable of incredible feats, seemed powerless in this situation. The arms and legs that could strike down any foe were now trembling with exertion, unable to hasten this natural process.

Akira reflected on the irony of her situation. She, who had taken lives with ease, now struggled to bring one into the world. This realization brought a newfound appreciation for the sanctity of life and the strength of those who nurture it.

The ninja who prided herself on stealth and silence now found herself vocalizing without restraint. Every grunt, moan, and cry echoed her raw determination and vulnerability.

On her hands and knees, hips raised, Akira pushed with all her might. She, who had always been in control, now felt at the mercy of nature's forces. This position of vulnerability was foreign to her, yet she embraced it, understanding its necessity.

As exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her, Akira made one final, desperate plea. "Please, little one," she begged between ragged breaths. "Come out now. Join me in this world."

Just when Akira felt she couldn't endure another moment, she felt a shift. With one last, monumental effort, she pushed, and suddenly, the cave was filled with a new sound – the cry of a newborn.

Panting heavily, Akira turned to see her child for the first time. A wave of emotion unlike anything she had ever experienced washed over her. Love, pride, and a fierce protectiveness consumed her as she gazed at the tiny life she had brought into the world.

As she cradled her newborn, Akira whispered, "Welcome, my little warrior. Our greatest adventure begins now."

In that moment, in a humble cave far from the world of shadows and secrets, the feared Shadow Wind discovered a new identity – that of a mother. And she knew, without a doubt, that this would be her most challenging and rewarding role yet.

[whywontyoucomeout]

Shadows in the Night

The moon hung low in the inky sky, its silvery light barely penetrating the thick canopy of clouds that blanketed the sprawling estate below. The manor house loomed large against the backdrop of darkness, its imposing silhouette a testament to the power and wealth of its occupant. Guards patrolled the perimeter with clockwork precision, their eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of intrusion.

But on this night, their vigilance would prove futile.

Like a whisper on the wind, Hikari moved through the grounds with preternatural grace. Her black attire melded seamlessly with the darkness, rendering her all but invisible to the untrained eye. Each step was calculated, each movement purposeful. She was Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, the greatest ninja of her generation, and tonight she had come to strike fear into the heart of a tyrant.

With practiced ease, Hikari scaled the wall, her fingers finding purchase where others would see only smooth stone. She vaulted over the top, landing silently on the other side. The inner courtyard stretched before her, a maze of meticulously manicured hedges and tranquil ponds. To an ordinary person, it might have seemed peaceful. To Hikari, it was a field of potential dangers.

She moved from shadow to shadow, her senses alert for any sign of detection. As she neared the main building, Hikari caught sight of two guards stationed at the entrance. Their eyes were alert, their postures rigid with attentiveness. But they were no match for her skills. With a flick of her wrist, Hikari sent two senbon needles flying through the air. They struck their targets with pinpoint accuracy, and the guards slumped to the ground, unconscious before they could raise an alarm.

Hikari slipped inside, her dark eyes scanning the opulent interior. Marble floors gleamed in the dim light, and priceless artworks adorned the walls. But she had no time to appreciate such luxuries. Her target lay ahead, in the heart of this gilded cage.

As she ascended the grand staircase, Hikari's thoughts turned to her mission. The man she sought was more than just a corrupt ruler – he was a monster who had brought suffering to countless innocents. Tonight, she would not end his life, but she would shatter the illusion of his invincibility. Fear would be her weapon, more potent than any blade.

The top floor of the manor was even more heavily guarded, but Hikari moved through their defenses like smoke through a grate. A sleeping gas here, a silent takedown there – she left a trail of unconscious bodies in her wake, never once raising an alarm.

Finally, she stood before an ornate door, its gilded surface a testament to the ego of the man who lay beyond. Hikari took a deep breath, centering herself. With silent determination, she eased the door open and slipped inside. The room beyond was dark, save for a sliver of moonlight that crept through a gap in the heavy curtains. And there, in a massive four-poster bed, lay her target – the dictator whose reign of terror was about to be challenged.

As Hikari moved towards the sleeping figure, her hand brushed against a small table, causing a delicate vase to wobble. She froze, her heart pounding, as the vase teetered on the edge for what felt like an eternity. Then, with agonizing slowness, it settled back into place.

The dictator stirred slightly but did not wake. Hikari let out a silent breath of relief, her hand instinctively moving to rest on her body. It was only then, in the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, that the true extent of her condition became apparent. Hikari's normally lithe form was dramatically altered, her midsection swollen with the unmistakable shape of advanced pregnancy. Her black attire, designed for stealth, had concealed her condition until now, but in this moment of vulnerability, the truth was revealed.

Despite her heavily pregnant state, Hikari of the Phantom Leaf stood poised and ready, prepared to begin the next phase of her mission. The greatest challenge lay ahead, but she was undeterred. Tonight, a tyrant would learn the meaning of fear, and Hikari would prove that even in her condition, she remained the most formidable ninja of her time.

————————————-

Hikari loomed over the sleeping dictator, her presence a palpable threat in the moonlit room. With a swift motion, she pressed a razor-sharp kunai against his throat, jolting him awake. The man's eyes flew open, terror flooding his features as he realized the precariousness of his situation.

"Who... who are you?" he stammered, his voice hoarse with fear.

"I am your worst nightmare," Hikari whispered, her voice cold and steady. "I am here to show you that your power is an illusion, that your walls and guards mean nothing."

The dictator's eyes darted around frantically, searching for an escape. Hikari pressed the blade closer, drawing a thin line of blood. "Your crimes against the people will not go unpunished," she hissed. "From this day forward, you will live in fear, knowing that death can come for you at any moment."

As she spoke, Hikari felt a sharp, sudden pain in her abdomen. She managed to suppress a gasp, but couldn't entirely hide the flicker of discomfort that crossed her face. The dictator, ever observant, noticed the change in her demeanor. His eyes traveled down to her swollen belly, visible now in the dim light.

A cruel smile spread across his face as realization dawned. "Well, well," he chuckled, his fear giving way to a newfound confidence. "It seems the great assassin has a weakness after all. You're in no condition to threaten me, girl. Why don't you waddle on out of here before I call my guards? I'm sure they'd be fascinated to meet such an... interesting intruder."

Hikari gritted her teeth as another contraction hit, stronger this time. The dictator's mockery rang in her ears, fueling her determination. With lightning speed, she moved the kunai from his throat to his eye, the tip hovering mere millimeters from the cornea.

"You mistake my condition for weakness," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "I could end your miserable life right now, baby or no baby. Your guards won't save you. Your wealth won't save you. Nothing can save you from me."

To prove her point, Hikari used her free hand to produce three senbon needles, flicking them with deadly accuracy. They embedded themselves in the wall behind the dictator's head, forming a perfect triangle around his ear. The man's bravado crumbled, replaced once again by raw fear.

"Please," he whimpered, all pretense of authority gone. "Please don't kill me. I'll do anything."

Hikari leaned in close, her voice a whisper. "Remember this moment. Remember that your life was in my hands, and I chose to spare it. But if you continue to abuse your power, to hurt the innocent, I will return. And next time, I won't be so merciful."

The dictator nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. Hikari stepped back, satisfied that her mission was accomplished. The man before her was thoroughly broken, his illusion of invincibility shattered.

As she prepared to make her exit, another contraction hit, more intense than the last. Hikari knew she had to move quickly. With one last glare at the cowering dictator, she moved to the window, her movements still graceful despite her condition.

"Remember," she said, her voice carrying a note of finality. "I'll be watching."

With that, Hikari slipped out into the night, leaving behind a tyrant who would never again sleep soundly. As she made her way through the grounds, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Her mission was a success, and now she had an even more important task ahead – bringing new life into the world.

——————————————-

Hikari moved swiftly through the manor grounds, her ninja training allowing her to maintain stealth despite her condition. The cool night air provided some relief as she navigated the intricate maze of hedges and fountains. Freedom was close – she could see the section of wall where she had entered, now her exit point.

But as she approached her escape route, a powerful contraction hit her with unexpected force. For the first time in her career as an elite ninja, Hikari lost control. A sharp cry escaped her lips, echoing in the quiet night. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with shock at her own outburst.

Before she could recover, she felt a warm gush between her legs. Her water had broken, leaving a conspicuous puddle on the manicured lawn. Hikari's mind raced – this was a complication she hadn't prepared for.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to move. She had to get out now, before –

"Hey! Who's there?" a gruff voice called out. A guard, alerted by her involuntary cry, was approaching with a flashlight in hand.

Hikari melted into the shadows of a nearby topiary, her breathing shallow and controlled despite the pain. She watched as the guard discovered the puddle, his face contorting in confusion.

"What the...?" he muttered, crouching down to examine the liquid.

Hikari knew she couldn't linger. With every second, the risk of discovery increased. She began to move again, using every ounce of her training to remain silent and unseen.

But her body was betraying her. As she crept along the perimeter wall, she felt more fluid trickling down her legs. To her horror, she realized she was leaving a trail – small droplets that glistened in the moonlight, leading directly to her position.

Behind her, she could hear more guards congregating around the initial puddle. Their voices carried on the night air:

"It's not rain."

"Could be from an animal?"

"Wait – there's more over here!"

"Follow it!"

Panic threatened to overwhelm her as Hikari heard the guards beginning to follow her trail. The contractions were coming faster now, each one requiring immense willpower to stay quiet and keep moving.

She reached the spot where she had entered – a section of wall partially hidden by an old oak tree. As she prepared to scale it, another contraction hit. Hikari bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, suppressing another scream.

The guards were getting closer. She could hear their footsteps, see the beams of their flashlights sweeping the grounds. With a final surge of determination, Hikari began to climb.

Her fingers found familiar handholds, her feet somehow maintaining their grip despite the pain and the fluid. She reached the top of the wall just as a flashlight beam illuminated the spot where she had been standing moments before.

"The trail ends here!" a guard shouted.

"Check the other side of the wall!" another responded.

Hikari didn't wait to hear more. She lowered herself down the outer side of the wall, every movement an agony. As her feet touched the ground outside the manor, she heard the guards shouting for reinforcements.

There was no time to rest. Still leaking amniotic fluid, her body wracked with contractions, Hikari disappeared into the forest surrounding the estate. She had escaped the immediate danger, but she was far from safe. Now, she faced an even greater challenge – finding a secure location to give birth, all while evading the search parties that would soon be scouring the area.

The greatest ninja of her generation was now in a race against time, her skills pushed to their absolute limit. The night was far from over, and her most difficult trial was just beginning.

———————————

Hikari's breath came in ragged gasps as she pushed through the dense forest. The sound of pursuit grew louder behind her – the guards had picked up her trail and were closing in fast. Each contraction hit her like a tidal wave, threatening to bring her to her knees.

As she stumbled into a small clearing, Hikari realized with grim certainty that she could no longer outrun her pursuers. The contractions were too intense, too frequent. She could hear the guards crashing through the underbrush, mere moments away from discovering her.

In that instant, Hikari made a decision. She was Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, the greatest ninja of her generation. She would not be hunted down like prey.

With supreme effort, she turned to face the direction of the approaching guards. Her hands moved in a series of rapid signs, preparing a jutsu. As the first guard burst into the clearing, Hikari was ready.

"There she is!" the guard shouted, raising his weapon.

But Hikari was faster. A blast of wind chakra erupted from her palms, sending the man flying backwards into his comrades. Three more guards appeared, their faces a mix of shock and determination as they took in the sight of the heavily pregnant ninja standing defiantly before them.

"Stand down!" one of them commanded. "You can't win this fight in your condition!"

Hikari's response was a flurry of shuriken that forced the guards to dive for cover. She moved with deadly grace, her years of training allowing her to anticipate and counter every attack. A kick here, a precisely thrown kunai there – even in the throes of labor, she was a force to be reckoned with.

One guard managed to get close, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Hikari ducked under the blade, using the man's momentum against him. In one fluid motion, she redirected his swing into another guard, then dropped low to sweep his legs out from under him.

As the battle raged on, Hikari fought not just the guards, but her own body. Each contraction threatened to break her concentration, but she channeled the pain into her attacks, using it to fuel her determination.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the last guard fell unconscious to the forest floor. Hikari stood amid the fallen men, her chest heaving with exertion. She had won, but at a cost. The fight had accelerated her labor, and she could feel the baby coming.

With the immediate threat neutralized, Hikari scanned her surroundings. In the dim pre-dawn light, she spotted the dark mouth of a cave not far from the clearing. It would have to do.

Stumbling now, no longer trying to hide her condition, Hikari made her way to the cave. She barely made it inside before another powerful contraction brought her to her knees. Finding a relatively flat area near the back of the cave, she began to prepare for the imminent birth.

As she arranged herself as comfortably as possible on the cold stone floor, Hikari allowed herself a moment of reflection. This was not how she had envisioned bringing her child into the world, but she had survived, had protected both herself and her baby against impossible odds.

A new contraction built, more intense than any before. Hikari gritted her teeth, bracing herself for the challenge ahead. She had completed her mission and escaped her pursuers. Now, she faced the most important task of her life – bringing new life into the world.

In the quiet of the cave, far from the comforts of home but secure in her own strength and skill, Hikari prepared to meet her child. The greatest ninja of her generation was about to become a mother, and she would face this challenge as she had faced all others – with courage, determination, and an indomitable spirit.

————————-

In the dim light of the cave, Hikari faced her greatest challenge yet. The contractions came in relentless waves, each one more intense than the last. She leaned back against the cool stone wall, her hands instinctively cradling her swollen belly. In this moment of vulnerability, the true extent of her pregnancy was fully revealed – her belly was impressively large, straining against her torn ninja garb.

Hikari, who had moved through heavily guarded compounds without making a sound, now found herself unable to contain her cries. Each contraction drew from her a primal sound that echoed off the cave walls. The dichotomy wasn't lost on her – the silent assassin now filled the air with the raw, unfiltered sounds of impending motherhood.

"I can do this," she whispered to herself between contractions, drawing on the same well of strength that had carried her through countless missions.

Hours passed, blurring together in a haze of effort and determination. Hikari shifted positions frequently, trying to find some measure of comfort in the unforgiving environment. She focused on her breathing, using techniques that had once kept her calm in the face of mortal danger to now manage the pain of childbirth.

As the labor progressed, Hikari felt the baby descending, only to slip back again. It was a dance of progress and retreat, testing her patience and resolve. She widened her stance, bracing herself against the cave floor, every muscle in her body working towards bringing her child into the world.

In a moment of clarity between contractions, Hikari reflected on the irony of her situation. She had spent years honing her body into a silent, lethal weapon. Now, that same body was performing its most natural and vocal function. The juxtaposition was striking – the quietest ninja in the land, now unable to stifle her cries.

But as another powerful contraction built, Hikari realized that this too was a form of strength. To bring life into the world required as much courage and determination as any mission she had undertaken. She was still Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, still the greatest ninja of her generation. This was simply a different kind of battle.

With renewed resolve, Hikari prepared for the final stage of her labor. The greatest challenge of her life was nearing its end, and a new chapter was about to begin.

———————————

The cave echoed with Hikari's labored breathing as the contractions reached their peak intensity. Her body, honed through years of rigorous training, now trembled with exhaustion and pain. In this moment of extreme vulnerability, the walls she had built around her emotions began to crumble.

"Takeshi," she cried out, her voice raw with anguish and longing. "Takeshi, I wish you were here."

The name of her late husband, unspoken for so long, now fell from her lips like a prayer. Hikari, who had faced countless dangers without flinching, found herself yearning for the comfort of his presence. In this intimate moment of weakness, she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her loss.

"Please," she whispered, her hands cradling her swollen belly. "Please, little one, it's time to come out now."

Driven by instinct and desperation, Hikari adjusted her position, trying to find a way to ease the baby's passage. She shifted uncomfortably on the cave floor, doing her best to create more space for the child to emerge.

The pain intensified, and Hikari's pleas turned to determination. She drew upon every ounce of strength left in her body, every lesson in endurance she had ever learned. The greatest ninja of her generation now faced a challenge that required a different kind of courage.

Hours seemed to blur together, punctuated by Hikari's cries and the steady drip of water from the cave's ceiling. And then, just as the first rays of dawn began to filter into the cave's entrance, a new sound pierced the air – the lusty cry of a newborn.

Hikari gasped, her pain momentarily forgotten as she reached for her child. With trembling hands, she cradled the tiny, wriggling form against her chest. Tears streamed down her face, a mix of relief, joy, and lingering sorrow for the husband who would never meet their child.

"Hello, little one," she whispered, her voice hoarse but filled with love. "Welcome to the world."

As the newborn's cries subsided into soft whimpers, Hikari felt a profound shift within herself. She was still Hikari of the Phantom Leaf, still a formidable ninja, but now she was something more – a mother. The mission that had brought her to this cave was complete, but a new, lifelong mission had just begun.

In the quiet of the early morning, as she held her child close and listened to the gentle sounds of their breathing, Hikari made a silent vow. She would protect this new life with all the skill and dedication she had ever brought to her role as a ninja. And perhaps, in raising this child, she would find a new kind of strength – one born not of silence and shadows, but of love and sacrifice.

As the sun rose over the forest, casting a warm glow into the cave, Hikari and her newborn rested. The night of danger and pain had passed, giving way to a new day full of promise and possibility. The greatest challenge of Hikari's life had been met, and a new chapter was just beginning.

[whywontyoucomeout]

The Warrior at Rest

Kaira stood at the window of her modest stone cottage, one hand resting on the swell of her enormous belly as she gazed out at the rolling hills beyond. At nearly nine months pregnant, her once lean warrior's physique had transformed dramatically. Her belly protruded like a great round shield, stretching the fabric of her tunic taut.

Despite her current state, Kaira's piercing green eyes remained as sharp as ever, scanning the horizon with the keen awareness of a seasoned fighter. Her long red hair was pulled back in a practical braid, revealing a thin white scar that ran from her left temple to her jaw - a reminder of battles past.

Kaira sighed, feeling the restlessness that had plagued her these past months. She was unaccustomed to this sedentary life, this waiting. Her hands, calloused from years of wielding sword and spear, itched for the familiar weight of a weapon.

As she watched the distant hills, her mind drifted back to her years as the most feared warrior in the Five Kingdoms. They had called her "The Crimson Whirlwind" for the way she moved on the battlefield - a blur of flashing steel and flowing red hair. Kaira had led armies to victory against impossible odds, her tactical genius as renowned as her combat prowess.

She remembered the Battle of Blackmire Pass, where she had single-handedly held the narrow mountain path against a horde of invaders, buying time for reinforcements to arrive. For three days and nights she had fought, her twin swords singing as they cleaved through enemy after enemy. When the dust settled, over two hundred foes lay dead at her feet.

Kaira's hand absently moved to her swollen belly as the baby within gave a strong kick. She smiled, imagining the child would be as fierce a fighter as its parents. Her husband Torin was nearly her equal in combat skill, though he preferred the great axe to her favored swords.

A pang of worry shot through her as she thought of Torin, out there now leading their forces against the Shadowmere invasion. This was the first campaign she had not fought by his side in over a decade. Part of her ached to be there with him, to feel the thrill of battle once more.

But Kaira knew her current battle was here - bringing new life into the world. She rubbed her aching back, feeling the weight of her enormous belly. The village midwife had remarked that she had never seen such a large pregnancy, joking that Kaira must be carrying twins or even triplets. Kaira wasn't so sure - she felt in her bones that it was one child, but a strong one.

As the sun began to set, painting the hills in shades of gold and crimson, Kaira's thoughts turned to the uncertain future. Would she be able to return to the battlefield once the child was born? Or would motherhood change her in ways she couldn't yet fathom?

One thing was certain - warrior or mother, Kaira would face whatever challenges lay ahead with the same courage and determination that had made her a legend. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as she had done countless times before charging into battle. Whatever came next, she would be ready.

—————————-

As twilight descended, a frantic pounding at the door shattered Kaira's contemplative silence. Her heart clenched as she opened it to find a breathless messenger, his face etched with grim news.

"My lady," he gasped, "the battle goes ill. Lord Torin... he's been gravely wounded. The enemy advances."

Kaira's world tilted on its axis. Without a word, she strode to the back of the cottage where her armor hung. Custom-made to accommodate her pregnancy, the breastplate was a masterwork of overlapping plates and supple leather. Yet as she donned it, Kaira found even this ingenious design strained against her enormous belly.

Ignoring the discomfort, she cinched the straps as tight as she dared. The pressure was intense, but bearable. Kaira gritted her teeth, her warrior's discipline overriding the protests of her body. She seized her twin swords, their familiar weight a grim comfort.

"Prepare my horse," she commanded the stunned messenger.

The ride to the battlefield was a blur of pain and determination. Each gallop sent shockwaves through Kaira's distended abdomen, the baby within kicking furiously. But Kaira's focus was singular: reach Torin, turn the tide of battle.

As she crested the final hill, the scene before her stole the breath from her lungs. The field was a chaos of clashing steel and fallen bodies. And there, at the center of it all, lay a familiar figure in blood-stained armor.

"No!" The cry tore from Kaira's throat as she spurred her mount forward. But even as she fought her way through the melee, she knew she was too late. Torin's eyes, once so full of life and love, stared sightlessly at the darkening sky.

Something snapped within Kaira. The grief, the rage, the primal protective instinct of impending motherhood - it all coalesced into a berserker fury unlike anything she had ever experienced. She became the Crimson Whirlwind once more, but this time there was no grace, no artistry to her movements. Only raw, devastating power.

Her swords flashed like lightning, cutting bloody swathes through the enemy ranks. Soldiers fell before her like wheat before the scythe. Those who saw her coming - this impossibly pregnant warrior dealing death with inhuman speed and strength - fled in terror.

Hours passed in a red haze. Kaira fought until her arms burned and her lungs heaved. She fought until the ground grew slick with blood and the air thick with the stench of death. She fought until, at last, only one enemy remained standing.

The Shadowmere commander stood before her, his black armor splattered with gore. Even through his helm, Kaira could sense his disbelief at the carnage she had wrought.

"Demon," he hissed, raising his mace. "What manner of creature are you?"

Kaira said nothing. Words were beyond her now. There was only the pounding of her heart, the weight of her unborn child, and the burning need for vengeance. She raised her swords, their edges notched and dripping, and prepared for one final battle.

The commander charged with a roar, his mace whistling through the air. Kaira met his assault head-on, her twin blades a whirlwind of steel. They clashed in a furious exchange, neither giving ground.

But Kaira's rage was a bottomless well, fueling her beyond the limits of normal endurance. With a cry that seemed to shake the very heavens, she battered through the commander's guard. Her left sword knocked his mace aside; her right plunged deep into his chest.

————-

As her foe crumpled to his knees, Kaira stood over him, her sword point resting at his throat. The Shadowmere commander's eyes widened with fear as he stared up at her, his helm having been knocked away in their fierce duel.

"You took everything from me," Kaira growled, her voice raw with emotion. "My husband, my child's father, the future we were meant to share."

The commander swallowed hard, feeling the cold steel against his skin. "Please," he begged, his earlier bravado evaporating in the face of death. "Mercy! I have a family too—"

"As did every soldier you sent to their deaths," Kaira cut him off, her green eyes blazing with contempt. "As did my husband."

She drew back her sword, preparing for the final blow. But just as she tensed to strike, a searing pain ripped through her abdomen. Kaira gasped, nearly dropping her weapon as she realized what was happening. The baby was coming.

The commander, seeing her momentary weakness, lunged forward with desperate speed. His hand grasped for the dagger at his belt, a last attempt to turn the tables.

But even in the grips of labor, Kaira's warrior instincts didn't falter. With a cry of pain and rage, she brought her sword down in a swift, decisive arc. The blade met flesh and bone, and the commander's reaching hand fell limp to the blood-soaked earth, followed quickly by his lifeless body.

Kaira staggered back, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She dropped to her knees, one hand clutching her belly as another contraction seized her. The battle was won, her vengeance complete, but a new struggle was just beginning.

As she knelt there on the battlefield, surrounded by the aftermath of carnage, Kaira felt a fierce kick from within her womb. Even now, her child fought alongside her. She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand despite the pain.

"We'll face this world together, little one," she whispered, beginning the arduous journey back to her village. "Your father's spirit lives on in us both."

With each agonizing step, Kaira left behind the Crimson Whirlwind and moved toward her new role as the Warrior Mother. The legend of her final battle would be told for generations, but the true test of her strength was yet to come.

———————

Kaira stumbled through the twilight, one hand on her sword hilt, the other supporting her enormous belly. Each contraction brought her to her knees, the pain far surpassing any battlefield wound she'd ever endured. As darkness fell, she spotted a cave in a nearby hillside and made for it with grim determination.

Once inside, Kaira began the laborious process of removing her armor. As the custom breastplate came free, her belly seemed to expand even further, no longer constrained. She marveled at its size, her skin stretched taut over the massive dome.

"By the gods," she muttered, "no wonder the midwife thought there might be twins."

Another contraction hit, and Kaira braced herself against the cave wall. She knew the basics of childbirth from the village women, but experiencing it was another matter entirely. Gritting her teeth, she lowered herself to the ground and spread her legs as wide as she could manage.

Hours passed in a haze of pain and effort. Kaira pushed with all her might, feeling the baby's head begin to emerge, only to have it slip back when she paused to catch her breath. It was maddening – like siege warfare, gaining ground only to lose it again.

"Come on, little warrior," she growled, her voice echoing in the cave. "Fight your way out, as your father and I would do."

Kaira lost track of time, her world narrowing to the rhythm of contractions and the burning sensation between her legs. She'd faced down armies without flinching, but this battle tested her limits like no other.

Just when she felt she could endure no more, a final, explosive contraction seized her. Kaira bore down with every ounce of strength left in her body, unleashing a primal scream that seemed to shake the very walls of the cave.

And then, suddenly, it was over. The cave filled with a new sound – the lusty wail of a newborn taking its first breath.

Exhausted beyond measure, Kaira reached down and pulled the squirming, slippery infant to her chest. As she gazed upon her child's face, she felt a love fiercer than any she'd known before.

"Welcome to the world, my little fighter," she whispered, tears mixing with sweat on her cheeks. "Your father would be so proud."

As the newborn's cries softened to contented gurgles, Kaira allowed herself a moment of peace. The battle was won, a new life brought forth against impossible odds. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she would face them with the same courage and determination that had seen her through this day.

Outside the cave, the first light of dawn began to break over the horizon. For Kaira and her child, it was the dawning of a new era – one that promised both great hardship and profound love.

——————————

As Kaira cradled her newborn, a fresh wave of pain gripped her. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"By the gods," she gasped, "there's another!"

The realization hit her: the midwife's jest about twins had been prophetic. Kaira's relief at delivering her first child quickly gave way to apprehension. She was already exhausted, her strength nearly spent.

With trembling arms, she gently placed her firstborn on a bed of soft leaves before repositioning herself. Instinct told her to get on her hands and knees. She began to rock back and forth, trying to ease the second baby into position.

This labor seemed even more arduous than the first. Kaira pushed with all her might, but progress was agonizingly slow. The baby seemed stuck, refusing to budge despite her efforts.

In all her years as a warrior, through countless battles and wars, Kaira had never felt as vulnerable as she did now. She, who had faced down armies and monsters, found herself at the mercy of her own body and this stubborn child within.

"Please," she whispered, her voice hoarse and desperate. It was strange to hear herself beg, but pride had no place in this primal struggle. "Please, little one, come out. Fight your way through, as your father would."

Hours passed, marked only by Kaira's labored breathing and occasional cries of pain. She pushed until she thought she could push no more, then somehow found the strength to continue.

Just when she was on the verge of despair, she felt a shift. With a final, monumental effort, Kaira bore down. A scream tore from her throat, echoing through the cave and startling her firstborn into wailing.

And then, at last, it was over. The second twin slipped into the world, adding its cries to its sibling's.

Kaira collapsed onto her side, utterly spent. With shaking hands, she gathered both infants to her chest, marveling at their tiny, perfect forms.

"Welcome, my little warriors," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You've proven yourselves fighters already."

As she lay there, her newborns nestled against her, Kaira felt a complex mix of emotions. Grief for Torin, who would never know his children. Pride in her own strength and that of her babies. And a fierce, protective love that overshadowed everything else.

The sun had fully risen now, its light reaching into the cave. Kaira knew the challenges ahead would be enormous – raising twins alone, rebuilding her life after the war. But as she looked at her children, she felt a renewed sense of purpose.

"We three are a family now," she told them softly. "And together, we can face anything."

[whywontyoucomeout]

The Sword and the Swollen Belly

Mei Lin's blade whistled through the air, cutting an arc so fine it seemed to slice the very sunlight. With a flick of her wrist, she sheathed the sword and turned to face her students, her heavily pregnant belly protruding before her.

"Remember," she said, her voice carrying across the training yard, "the sword is an extension of your body. It must flow as naturally as your own arm."

The students nodded, awe evident in their eyes. Even in her eighth month of pregnancy, Mei Lin moved with a grace and precision that left seasoned warriors slack-jawed. She was, without question, the greatest sword master of her generation - perhaps of any generation.

As the students paired off to practice, Mei Lin lowered herself carefully onto a bench, one hand supporting her back. Pregnancy had brought its share of discomforts, but she refused to let it keep her from her art. Still, she had to admit that her center of gravity wasn't what it used to be.

Mei Lin's path to becoming a legendary sword master had been an unconventional one. Born to a noble family fallen on hard times, she had been expected to make an advantageous marriage to restore her family's fortunes. Instead, she had fallen in love with the sword.

From the moment she first held a blade, Mei Lin knew she had found her calling. She trained in secret at first, then openly as her skill became impossible to ignore. By the time she was eighteen, she had defeated every sword master in the province.

Her reputation grew, along with the bounty on her head. Rival clans, threatened by her growing influence, sent assassins to eliminate her. But Mei Lin's blade was faster than their poisons and sharper than their daggers. With each attempt on her life, her legend only grew.

It was during one such assassination attempt that she met Chen Wei, the scholar who would become her husband. He had stumbled into the middle of the fight, armed with nothing but a scroll and his wits. Somehow, he had managed to trip up one of the assassins at a crucial moment, saving Mei Lin's life.

Their courtship had been as unconventional as everything else in Mei Lin's life. Chen Wei was no warrior, but his mind was as sharp as Mei Lin's blade. They would spend hours discussing philosophy and strategy, each challenging the other to greater heights.

When they married, many thought Mei Lin would retire from the sword to become a proper wife. Instead, Chen Wei became her staunchest supporter, managing her school and handling the business side of things while she focused on teaching and honing her art.

Life had been good. Until it wasn't.

Mei Lin was pulled from her reverie by a sharp kick from within. She rubbed her swollen belly, a bittersweet smile on her face. Chen Wei should have been here for this. He had been so excited about becoming a father.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans. Three months ago, Chen Wei had been killed - murdered by thugs working for Boss Gao, a local crime lord to whom he apparently owed money. Mei Lin hadn't even known about the debt until it was too late.

Now, she was alone, eight months pregnant, and being hounded by Gao's men for a debt she didn't owe. She had tried reasoning with them, then threatening them. Nothing worked. They kept coming, growing bolder with each attempt.

As Mei Lin watched her students practice, she felt a familiar tension in the air. Her hand unconsciously went to her sword hilt. Something was coming. She could feel it.

Just then, one of her senior students approached, his face grave. "Master," he said quietly, "there are men at the gate. They say they're here to collect a debt."

Mei Lin nodded, unsurprised. She stood, one hand on her belly, the other on her sword. "Tell the others to get the younger students inside," she said calmly. "I'll handle this."

As she walked towards the gate, Mei Lin felt the familiar calm of impending battle settle over her. Pregnant she may be, but she was still the greatest sword master of her time. And if Gao's thugs thought her condition made her an easy target, they were about to learn a painful lesson.

Mei Lin's hand tightened on her sword hilt. It was time to show these men why, even with a child in her belly, she was still the most dangerous woman in the province.

[whywontyoucomeout]

Legend of the Sword and the Swollen Belly

Mei Lin moved like flowing water, her blade flashing in the dim light of the alleyway. Eight months pregnant she may have been, but that did nothing to slow the grace of her movements as she danced between her attackers.

"Look at the size of her!" one of the thugs jeered. "She can barely stand, much less fight!"

Mei Lin said nothing, conserving her breath. Let them underestimate her. It would be their downfall.

The first man lunged forward, swinging a heavy club. Mei Lin pivoted, her swollen belly just barely clearing the path of the weapon. In the same fluid motion, she brought her sword up and across, opening a deep gash in the thug's arm. He cried out and stumbled back.

Two more rushed her from opposite sides. Mei Lin dropped into a crouch, wincing at the strain on her lower back. The thugs collided above her with a meaty thud. As they reeled back, she rose and struck in two swift motions. Both men fell, clutching bleeding legs.

"Who sent you?" Mei Lin demanded, her voice steady despite her elevated breathing.

"Go to hell, you cow!" one of the fallen men spat.

Mei Lin's eyes narrowed. Her next strike left him short one ear.

"I won't ask again," she said coldly.

The remaining thugs looked at each other nervously. This was not how they had expected the night to go. Their boss had assured them this would be an easy job - just rough up some helpless pregnant woman as a warning to her husband. No one had mentioned anything about her being a master swordswoman.

"It was Gao," one of them said quickly. "Boss Gao sent us. Said to send a message to your husband about paying his debts."

Mei Lin nodded grimly. "Tell Gao that my husband's debts died with him three months ago. And if he sends anyone else after me or my child, his debts to me will be paid in blood."

She began to turn away, then paused as another contraction gripped her. The thugs watched in confusion and growing terror as she braced herself against the alley wall, breathing heavily.

After a long moment, Mei Lin straightened. She fixed the men with a steely glare. "Now get out of my sight. My child and I have an appointment to keep."

The thugs scrambled to gather their wounded and flee. Mei Lin watched them go, one hand on her sword, the other resting on her belly where her child kicked furiously.

"Settle down, little one," she murmured. "You'll have your chance to fight soon enough. But first, let's get you safely into this world."

With a final glance down the alley, Mei Lin sheathed her sword and set off toward the midwife's house. It was going to be a long night.

———————

Mei Lin arrived at the midwife's house, her breath coming in short gasps. The old woman, Madam Chen, took one look at her and ushered her inside.

"Is it time?" she asked, helping Mei Lin to a bed.

Mei Lin nodded, then grimaced as another contraction hit. Madam Chen examined her carefully, then frowned.

"False alarm, my dear," she said gently. "Your body is preparing, but the little one isn't ready yet."

Mei Lin sighed, partly in relief and partly in frustration. "How much longer?"

"Could be days," Madam Chen replied. "Get some rest. You'll need your strength."

Reluctantly, Mei Lin allowed herself to be convinced to stay the night. She slept fitfully, her dreams filled with clashing swords and crying infants.

The next morning, feeling refreshed but still very pregnant, Mei Lin made her way home. The streets were quieter than usual, an uneasy tension in the air. As she turned onto her street, she saw why.

A group of men stood outside her house, led by a portly figure she recognized all too well. Boss Gao himself had come to call.

"Ah, Mei Lin," Gao called out as she approached. "I heard you had an eventful evening. I thought I'd come personally to discuss your husband's... outstanding obligations."

Mei Lin's hand went to her sword hilt. "I told your men, Gao. My husband's debts died with him."

Gao's face hardened. "Debts don't die, Mei Lin. They pass to the family. Unless, of course, you'd like to work out an... alternative arrangement." His eyes lingered on her swollen belly.

White-hot rage filled Mei Lin. Without conscious thought, her sword was in her hand.

"Last chance, Gao," she growled. "Leave now, or join my husband in the afterlife."

Gao laughed and gestured to his men. "Take her."

What followed was a blur of steel and blood. Mei Lin fought like a woman possessed, her blade singing through the air. She was outnumbered, but her skill and fury more than made up for it.

One by one, Gao's men fell. Some fled, clutching bleeding wounds. Others lay still on the ground. Through it all, Mei Lin never lost sight of Gao, who watched with increasing panic as his forces dwindled.

Finally, it was just the two of them. Gao fumbled for a hidden dagger, but Mei Lin was faster. Her sword flashed out, knocking the weapon from his hand and opening a gash across his palm.

"Please," Gao whimpered, falling to his knees. "Mercy!"

Mei Lin stood over him, sword point at his throat. "Did you show mercy to my husband when he begged for more time? Did you show mercy when you sent thugs after his pregnant wife?"

She pulled back her sword for the killing blow, but suddenly staggered. A contraction gripped her, far stronger than before. As she gasped in pain, her water broke, soaking her legs.

Gao's eyes widened in terror. "You- you can't kill me now! It's bad luck to spill blood when a child is coming!"

Mei Lin's laugh was half pain, half bitter amusement. "Then it seems today is your lucky day, Gao." She lowered her sword. "Run. Run far and fast. Because if I ever see you again, no superstition will stay my hand."

As Gao scrambled away, Mei Lin sank to her knees, breathing heavily. The baby was coming, and coming fast.

"Madam Chen!" she called out, hoping the midwife was nearby. "I think it's time for real now!"

As neighbors began to emerge, drawn by the sounds of fighting, Mei Lin closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. One battle was over, but another was just beginning. And this time, she and her child would face it together.

———————————-

The Sword, the Swollen Belly, and the Solitary Struggle

Mei Lin's cries for Madam Chen went unanswered. The midwife must have been attending another birth. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as another contraction hit, stronger than before.

No, she thought fiercely. I've faced worse than this. I can do this.

With great effort, Mei Lin pulled herself to her feet. She couldn't give birth here in the street, surrounded by curious onlookers. She needed privacy and safety.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she staggered towards her house. Each step was agony, but she pressed on, one hand on her sword hilt, the other supporting her belly.

Once inside, she barred the door and made her way to the bedroom. She laid out clean sheets and gathered what supplies she could - a knife to cut the cord, clean cloths, water.

As she worked, the contractions intensified. Mei Lin found herself on her hands and knees, panting through the pain. She tried to remember what Madam Chen had told her about breathing, about pushing.

Hours passed in a haze of pain and effort. Mei Lin lost track of time, focused only on the relentless rhythm of contractions. She alternated between walking, squatting, and resting on her side.

"Come on, little one," she gasped. "We've fought so hard to get here. Don't give up now."

The pain reached a crescendo. Mei Lin felt an overwhelming urge to push. She bore down with all her might, a primal scream tearing from her throat.

Nothing happened.

Panic rose again. Was something wrong? She pushed again, and again, but the baby didn't seem to be moving.

Exhausted and terrified, Mei Lin closed her eyes. She thought of all the battles she'd fought, all the challenges she'd overcome. She thought of her husband, of the life growing inside her.

"We are warriors," she whispered fiercely. "And warriors don't give up."

With renewed determination, Mei Lin changed positions. She squatted, bracing herself against the bed. As the next contraction built, she took a deep breath and pushed with everything she had.

This time, she felt movement. Hope surged through her. "That's it," she encouraged herself. "Keep going."

Push after push, Mei Lin fought to bring her child into the world. The pain was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, but she embraced it, used it to fuel her determination.

Finally, with one last Herculean effort, she felt the baby slip free. Mei Lin caught the tiny, slippery body in her hands, her heart pounding.

For a terrifying moment, there was silence. Then, a lusty cry filled the room.

Tears streamed down Mei Lin's face as she brought the baby to her chest. "Hello, my little warrior," she whispered. "Welcome to the world."

With shaking hands, she cut the cord and cleaned the baby as best she could. It was a girl, small but strong, with a shock of dark hair and eyes that seemed to take in everything.

As Mei Lin held her daughter close, she felt a profound sense of peace. They had done it. Against all odds, they had survived.

"Your father would be so proud," she murmured to the now-quiet infant. "And I promise you, my little one, I will always be here to protect you. We'll face whatever comes together."

Outside, the sun was rising, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. A new day was dawning, and with it, a new chapter in Mei Lin's life. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but for now, she allowed herself to rest, her daughter safe in her arms.

The swordswoman had become a mother, and she was ready for her greatest adventure yet.

————————————-

Mei Lin's moment of peace was short-lived. As she cradled her newborn daughter, a familiar pain gripped her abdomen. Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief.

"No," she gasped. "It can't be..."

But the contractions continued, growing in intensity. Mei Lin's mind raced. Twins? How had she not known? How had Madam Chen not realized?

There was no time to ponder these questions. The second baby was coming, and coming fast. Mei Lin gently placed her daughter in a makeshift nest of blankets, then struggled to her feet.

This labor was different. The pain was sharper, more urgent. Mei Lin paced the room, one hand on her still-swollen belly, the other braced against the wall for support.

"Please," she whispered, unsure if she was addressing the baby or some higher power. "Please, let this be quick."

But it wasn't quick. Hours passed, and still the second twin refused to emerge. Mei Lin tried every position she could think of - squatting, standing, lying on her side. Nothing worked.

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm her. She had already been through so much - the fight with Gao's men, the grueling first birth. How much more could her body take?

As another contraction wracked her body, Mei Lin found herself on her hands and knees. She stayed there, the cool floor offering some small relief against her feverish skin.

"Please, little one," she begged, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Please come out. Your sister is waiting for you. I'm waiting for you."

She pushed with all her might, over and over again. Sweat poured down her face, mingling with tears of exhaustion and frustration.

"I can't do this," she sobbed. "I can't..."

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they weren't true. She was Mei Lin, master swordswoman, protector of the weak. She had faced down armies, survived the loss of her husband, brought one child into the world alone. She could do this.

With a guttural cry, Mei Lin gathered the last reserves of her strength. She bore down, pushing harder than she ever had before.

And finally, finally, she felt movement.

"Yes," she gasped. "That's it. Come on, little warrior. You're almost here."

With one last, monumental effort, Mei Lin felt the second baby slip free. She turned, catching the tiny body in her trembling hands.

This baby didn't cry immediately. For a heart-stopping moment, Mei Lin feared the worst. Then, as if sensing her panic, the infant let out a thin wail.

Mei Lin laughed through her tears, bringing the baby to her chest. "There you are," she murmured. "What a journey you've had."

This one was a boy, smaller than his sister but with a fierce grip that spoke of his strength. Mei Lin cleaned him as best she could, then brought both babies together.

As she looked down at her unexpected twins, a wave of love and protectiveness washed over her. They were tiny, vulnerable, perfect. And they were hers.

"My little warriors," she whispered. "My son, my daughter. I don't know what challenges lie ahead of us, but I promise you this - we will face them together. You are the children of a swordswoman and a scholar. You have the strength of your father's mind and your mother's arm. And you will never, ever be alone."

Outside, the sun had completed its journey across the sky. Night was falling, bringing with it a gentle breeze that whispered of new beginnings.

Mei Lin settled back against the wall, a baby in each arm. She was exhausted, sore, and more terrified than she'd ever been in her life. But she was also filled with a fierce joy and determination.

This was not the future she had planned. But as she looked at her children's faces, she knew it was the future she was meant to have. And whatever came next, she would be ready.

[whywontyoucomeout]

Li Na was not an ordinary woman. She was the best martial artist in the world, and the leader of the Dragon Clan, a secret society of warriors who protected the innocent from the evil forces of the Shadow Sect. She had mastered the ancient arts of kung fu, tai chi, and qi gong, and could wield any weapon with deadly precision. She was feared and respected by her enemies and allies alike.

But Li Na had a weakness. She was in love with Chen Wei, a humble doctor who worked at a local hospital. They had met by chance when Li Na was injured during a mission and Chen Wei treated her wounds. They fell in love and got married, despite the objections of Li Na's clan elders, who wanted her to marry someone from their own ranks. Li Na and Chen Wei were happy, and soon they were expecting their first child.

Li Na was overjoyed, but also worried. She knew that her pregnancy would make her vulnerable, and that the Shadow Sect would not hesitate to take advantage of her condition. She also knew that her child would inherit her martial skills and clan legacy, and that the Shadow Sect would stop at nothing to capture or kill her offspring. She decided to keep her pregnancy a secret from everyone, except for Chen Wei and her closest friend, Mei Ling, who was also a member of the Dragon Clan.

She continued to lead her clan and fight the Shadow Sect, hiding her growing belly under loose clothes and using her qi to mask her life force. She was determined to protect her family and her clan, no matter the cost. She hoped that she could give birth to her child in peace, and then resume her duties as the clan leader.

But her hopes were shattered when she received a message from Mei Ling. The Shadow Sect had somehow learned of her pregnancy, and had launched a surprise attack on her clan's headquarters. Mei Ling had managed to escape with a few survivors, but many of the clan members were killed or captured. Li Na was furious and heartbroken. She grabbed her sword and her coat, and told Chen Wei to stay at home and lock the doors. She kissed him goodbye, and promised to return soon.

She rushed to the clan's headquarters, which was a hidden temple in the outskirts of the city. She saw the smoke and flames rising from the temple, and heard the screams and clashes of weapons. She felt a surge of anger and pain in her chest, and also a kick in her belly. She ignored both, and charged into the temple, slashing and kicking her way through the Shadow Sect's minions. She reached the main hall, where she saw Mei Ling and the remaining clan members surrounded by the Shadow Sect's elite fighters. She also saw the leader of the Shadow Sect, a man named Zhao Yun, who was holding a bloody dagger in his hand.

"Li Na, you're too late," Zhao Yun said with a wicked smile. "I've already killed your clan elders, and taken their secrets. And now, I'm going to kill you and your unborn child. You see, I know who you are, and who your child will be. You are the descendant of the legendary Dragon Emperor, who ruled the world with his mighty dragon army. And your child will be the next Dragon Emperor, who will inherit his power and glory. But I won't let that happen. I will end your bloodline here and now, and take the dragon power for myself. I will be the new Dragon Emperor, and the world will bow to me!"

Li Na felt a chill in her spine, and a warmth in her womb. She realized that Zhao Yun was telling the truth. She was indeed the descendant of the Dragon Emperor, and her child was the next in line. She had always sensed a special connection with dragons, and had often dreamed of flying with them in the sky. She had never known the reason, until now. She looked at Zhao Yun, and saw the madness and greed in his eyes. She knew that he was a dangerous enemy, and that she had to stop him.

She drew her sword, and shouted to Mei Ling and the others. "Fight with me, my brothers and sisters! We are the Dragon Clan, and we will not surrender to the Shadow Sect! We will protect our leader, and our future emperor! We will fight for our honor, and our freedom! We will fight for our lives, and our love! We are the Dragon Clan, and we will never give up!"

She charged at Zhao Yun, who raised his dagger and met her attack. They clashed with a loud bang, and sparks flew from their weapons. They exchanged blows and parries, matching each other's speed and strength. Li Na felt her baby moving inside her, and felt a surge of energy and courage. She also felt a strange sensation, as if something was awakening within her. She saw a flash of scales and claws, and heard a roar in her ears. She realized that it was her dragon spirit, and that it was ready to manifest.

She unleashed her dragon spirit, and transformed into a giant dragon. She had scales of gold and red, eyes of fire, and wings of thunder. She breathed a blast of flame at Zhao Yun, who barely dodged it. He looked at her in shock and fear, and realized that he had underestimated her. He tried to stab her with his dagger, but she snapped it with her teeth. She grabbed him with her claws, and lifted him into the air. She looked at him with contempt, and said in a booming voice. "You are not worthy of the dragon power, Zhao Yun. You are a traitor and a murderer, and you will pay for your crimes. You will never be the Dragon Emperor, because you are nothing but a worm. And worms are food for dragons."

She opened her mouth, and bit him in half. She spat out his remains, and roared in triumph. She looked at the temple, and saw that the Shadow Sect's forces were fleeing in terror. She also saw that Mei Ling and the other clan members were cheering and bowing to her. She smiled, and landed on the ground. She reverted to her human form, and hugged Mei Ling and the others. She thanked them for their loyalty and bravery, and apologized for their losses. She told them that they were her family, and that she loved them. She also told them that she was proud of them, and that they had done well.

She then felt a sharp pain in her belly, and realized that it was time. She told Mei Ling and the others that she had to go, and that she would see them soon. She asked them to take care of the temple, and to prepare for the arrival of the new emperor. She then ran back to her home, where Chen Wei was waiting for her. She told him what had happened, and that she was ready to give birth. He was shocked and amazed, but also happy and excited. He helped her to their bedroom, and delivered their baby. It was a boy, and he was healthy and beautiful. He had Li Na's eyes, and Chen Wei's smile. He also had a birthmark on his chest, in the shape of a dragon.

Li Na and Chen Wei held their son, and kissed him. They named him Long, which means dragon. They looked at him with love and wonder, and felt a bond that was stronger than anything. They knew that he was special, and that he had a great destiny. They also knew that he was their miracle, and their joy. They vowed to protect him, and to raise him well.

[whywontyoucomeout]

In the land of Edo, where cherry blossoms painted the landscape with hues of delicate pink, there wandered a ronin unlike any other. Her name was Akane, and she bore the weight of life within her—a child soon to be born into a world of uncertainty. Akane’s journey was not just one of physical travel, but of inner strength and resolve.

The Tale of Akane, the Ronin

Akane had once served a noble house, her sword pledged to protect its honor. But fate, as fickle as the winds, had left her masterless, a ronin wandering the countryside. Her belly grew with each passing day, a constant reminder of the new life she would soon bring forth. Yet, even in her delicate condition, Akane’s spirit remained unyielding, her grip on her katana as firm as ever.

As the seasons changed, Akane found herself in a small village on the outskirts of Edo. The villagers, wary of a lone samurai, especially one so close to childbirth, kept their distance. But Akane was not deterred. She sought shelter under an ancient willow tree, its branches swaying gently as if to welcome her.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red, a group of bandits descended upon the village. Their leader, a cruel man with eyes like steel, demanded tribute from the frightened villagers. Akane, hearing the commotion, rose from her resting place, her hand instinctively reaching for her sword.

With the grace of a dancer and the ferocity of a tigress, Akane confronted the bandits. “Leave these people be,” she commanded, her voice steady despite the contractions that began to ripple through her body. The bandits, amused by the sight of a pregnant woman standing against them, laughed heartily—until Akane’s blade sang through the air.

The battle was fierce, and Akane fought with a warrior’s skill and a mother’s fury. She moved like a specter, her strikes precise and deadly. The bandits, realizing their mistake too late, fell one by one until only their leader remained.

He charged at Akane, his own sword raised high. But Akane, her senses heightened by the life within her, parried his blow and delivered a swift counterattack. The bandit leader crumpled to the ground, defeated.

The villagers, who had watched the battle from the safety of their homes, emerged slowly, their eyes wide with awe. They approached Akane, their former fear replaced with gratitude. “You have saved us,” they said, bowing deeply.

Akane merely nodded, her thoughts turning inward to the child who had kicked and squirmed throughout the fight, as if lending its own strength to her cause. She knew her journey was far from over, but for now, she had found a place of peace.

The villagers offered her a home, and in the weeks that followed, Akane gave birth to a healthy child—a boy with his mother’s fiery spirit. She named him Takeshi, meaning ‘warrior’, for he had been born of battle and would grow up knowing the strength of his mother’s love.

And so, the tale of Akane, the heavily pregnant ronin, became a legend whispered throughout the land. A story of courage, of life, and of the unbreakable bond between mother and child.

Akane’s story is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the power of a mother’s love. It reminds us that even in the darkest of times, there is hope, and that strength can be found in the most unexpected of places.

[whywontyoucomeout]

Pregnant ronin

She was heavily pregnant, and due any day now. She had no husband, no family, no friends to help her. She had only her sword, her wits, and her will. She knew she had to find a safe place to give birth, but where? She had no money, no connections, no allies. She had only her honor, her pride, and her courage.

She came across a small village, nestled in the mountains. It looked peaceful and prosperous, but she sensed something was wrong. She saw fear and suspicion in the eyes of the villagers, and heard whispers of a tyrant lord who ruled over them with an iron fist. She learned that he had imposed heavy taxes, confiscated lands, and conscripted men into his army. He had also taken a liking to the young women of the village, and had claimed them as his concubines.

She felt a surge of anger and pity for the villagers, and decided to stay for a while. She rented a room at the inn, and offered her services as a bodyguard and a sword instructor. She soon gained the respect and admiration of the villagers, who saw her as a hero and a savior. She also caught the eye of the tyrant lord, who heard of her skills and beauty, and decided to make her his next conquest.

He sent his men to the inn, and demanded that she come with them. She refused, and fought them off with her sword. She was outnumbered and outmatched, but she fought with the strength and fury of a mother protecting her child. She killed several of the men, and wounded the rest. She then fled the inn, and headed for the woods.

She knew she had to leave the village, and find another place to hide. She also knew she had to deliver her baby soon, before it was too late. She prayed to the gods for guidance and mercy, and hoped for a miracle.

She found a cave, deep in the forest. It was dark and damp, but it was better than nothing. She made a fire, and prepared herself for the birth. She had no midwife, no medicine, no tools. She had only her breath, her pain, and her faith. She pushed and screamed, and felt the life force leaving her body. She thought she was going to die, but she didn't. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy, and held him in her arms. She felt a wave of joy and relief, and thanked the gods for their blessing.

She looked at her son, and saw his eyes. They were bright and blue, like the sky. She remembered his father, the man who had given her this child. He was a foreigner, a sailor from a distant land. She had met him at a port town, and had fallen in love with him. He had been kind and gentle, and had treated her with respect and dignity. He had also been brave and adventurous, and had taught her many things. He had given her a name, a necklace, and a promise. He had said he would come back for her, and take her with him to his home. He had said he loved her, and she had believed him.

She wondered if he was still alive, and if he would ever find her. She hoped he would, and that they would be together again. She hoped he would love their son, and that he would be proud of him. She hoped he would accept her, and that he would understand her. She hoped for a lot of things, but she knew they were only hopes.

She was a ronin, a masterless samurai, wandering the land in search of a place to belong. She had a son, a precious gift, who gave her a reason to live. She had a sword, a loyal companion, who gave her a way to survive. She had a dream, a distant memory, who gave her a hope to strive.

She was a ronin, and she was a mother. She was a warrior, and she was a lover. She was a woman, and she was a legend.

[whywontyoucomeout]

Spy in disguise

Jen was the best detective well known by the whole division. Not only did she excel in capturing bad guys but also in disguies. In fact, her nickname was the disguise matser. She could turn herself into anyone male female young or old alike which is the reason why she was in a secret mission infiltrating a drug gang. Being heavily pregnant as she was, her disguise was a middle age man with a beer belly. The police was tipped off that the largest amount of drug in history was about to be smuggled and needed to take action asap. As excited as she was to be a mother, she couldn't let go of this huge case. And with her disguise abilities, she was the perfect match to be a spy. In addition, she had gone undercover countless times amd successfully taken down the criminals. This time would be easy peasy too she thought.

Several weeks had passed. She ( disguised as a he) had gained the leader's trust to an extent that she got to know every move, every plan but nothing about the said huge drug deal. She became impatient. What if her baby was due and she didn't get the chance to capture them. What if the boss had known her disguise all along and was purposely keeping her close. But that was impossible because she knew her diaguise was perfect. She successfully turned herself into this middle age man, even her pregnant belly was diaguised as a beer belly. Even with the huge belly she fought so good that the boss even made her his body guard. One downside is that as the boss's bodyguard, she had to fight a lot, like a lot, not only that she had to be with him every second following everywhere he went, driving him to his desired places including picking up and dropping off his kids at school. She accidentally got hit in the stomach sometimes but luckily she just ended up with a bruised belly, the baby was unharmed.

Time passed quickly and she was now 38 weeks pregnant. Yet, no drug deal till now. It became uncomfortable for her to do her usual errands with her growing belly. The boss wanted to take his kids to the amusement park one day and as her duty was a body guard, she had to follow. He had rented out the entire amusement park. So, there was no one else there aprt from them.

Little did she know that there was a mole in the police force and that the boss knew she was the infamous disguise master Jen all along. He tried to kill her off by sending her to dangerous missions but even with a huge belly, she succeeded. He thought she might give up if her baby was at risk of getting hurt but she was so damn stubborn. The bigger her belly got, the more dangerous and physical jobs the boss send her to. But she was so confident that she thought no one knew about her being a spy and being pregnant.

On the amusement park, she saw several signs that pregnant women were not allowed on certain rides. She just silently prayed that she won't be put on those rides. The kids wanted to ride bumper cars and the boss ordered her to get in every single ride the kids wanted to and accompany them all day long.

In addition, the boss send three of his minions together with them whose mission is to make her hurt and withdraw her from the spy mission or kill her if possible.

The bumper for sure was fun, I mean for the kids. For her, not so much. Every time someone bumped into her car, her belly was slammed to the steering wheel due to inertia causing her painful contractions. She felt a 'pop' and a warm gush of water came down her pants. 'Oh crap! My water has broken' she thought. The boss's minions purposely kept bumping her car continuously until the time ran out. She lost count how many times she was thrown back and forth, her eyes became blurry due to the pain and she had to hold her belly gritting her teeth and trying to sooth the pain.

The day continued, the kids wanted to get on almost every single ride and she could barely walk now. The safety bars and belts on the rides were the worst. Those were either pressing her stomach in half from the front or pushing down from above. The baby descended into her birth canal more after each ride opening her wide. She ignored the dumpness on her pants and luckily no one bothered to ask. The boss was so satisfied. His plan worked! Her water had broken. She would leave the gang and he could finally do the deal.

Her contracting belly was hard as a rock, her back and belly was killing her. After a really long time of suffering, she decided to tell the boss that she ate the bad seafood last night and she now has to go back home and she would immediately be back tomorrow. The boss wasn't amused. He wanted her to gone forever not coming back the next day. So he decided to go to the final plan. He went " okay one last ride and you can go rest at home", smiling sneakily. She sensed something was off and before getting on the roller coaster, she called her police supervisor who she put as her emergency call.

She struggled to get on it with the baby already in her birth canal widening her hips. No one else except her was getting on. She knew something was terribly wrong and tried to get off immediately but her huge pregnant belly had been getting in the way. The boss errily smiled and said " Think you can trick me miss detective. I know who you are. You don't need to pretend to be a obese dude. Now you will pay the price. Time for the ride!"

Then before she could react, the safety bar came down with so much force and hit her belly violently. She wailed in pain and felt like her stomach was about to rupter. The pressing force push her baby further down and the head starts to crown. She could feel the fetal head stuck in her opening being blocked by the ride's plastic chair. The bar was still pressing down her belly and yet the baby had nowhere else to go. She tried to get up but it makes the bar pressed further down. The boss, his minions and his kids were laughing at her pain. She was drenched in sweats, her face wrincing in pain, the head being squeezed out by the contraction and pushed back by the chair. It was all so much fun for them. The boss signaled his man and suddenly another bar came out from the front amd crushed her belly. Now her stomach was squished from above and the front, indenting her stomach dangerouly. She was a mess at this point, crying , sobbing with a large pool of liquid at her feet.

"Now time to go" the boss said and left her just like that with both bars still pressing and disfiguring her belly. An hour later, her supervisor she previously made a call arrived and lift the bars from the ride's control center got her down and sent her to the hospital. 4 hours later, she was seen breastfeeing her baby on the hospital bed cradling with all smiles. Her stomach was black and blue from all the hits she took but a tough woman would be fine in a few days.