Under the bright lights of the studio the group were moving into their routine. Because this was being filmed for general release the women were all attractive, vivacious and young. Their silky leotards clung revealingly to well toned bodies. The most striking feature of the scene, however, was that each of the photogenic participants was noticeably pregnant. Their tight costumes stretched over, or in some cases even left bare, beautifully rounded bellies, from the elegant out-swell of the second trimester to the full out-thrust later-term globe, and the low cut tops showcased the plumply bulging breasts of expectant motherhood. Faced with this stage full of lovely fertile womanhood, Curt had eyes only for one. She stood at the front of the group, as she was the instructor of this series. In her late twenties, of medium height, she had a long, full lipped face, lush with the hormones of pregnancy and a cute pageboy bob. Her legs were the lean muscular limbs of a dancer, but her abdomen was palpably the most taut and full on the stage. At every moment that his eyes fell on her Curt felt his heart pump and his restless manhood surge uncomfortably. His dreams dwelt on her heavily fertile body. He was a strong believer in not mixing business with pleasure, but this was the last shoot and he intended losing no time in becoming a lot closer to the alluring Madeleine. This contract was a life saver for Madeleine. She had always enjoyed her work as a dancer, earning enough to live comfortably, but somehow never able to save. Then disaster struck. The surge of lust she always felt after a vigorous performance propelled her into the arms of a predatory male she met at the after-party. He took her home and fucked her mercilessly until dawn, then pushed her firmly out the door. She never saw him again but, after months had passed, her tummy began to push out against her skimpy dancing costumes and she was politely and sympathetically told that there was no demand for pregnant dancers. As her uterus swelled ever more embarrassingly beneath her clothes and her once lithe, small-breasted body became full and plump, her last reserves of cash dwindled. Then she answered an casting advertisement for “Pregnant Yoga Workout”. The interview went exceptionally well; the series director seemed to respond positively to her from the first, and she was even able to negotiate a small retainer to keep herself available until shooting was due to start. She left feeling buoyed and excited for the first time in months and hastened off to learn something about yoga. “And … Action!” Cut’s voice cut through her reverie. The rolling cameras hummed quietly. “Today we are going to practice some more advanced squats …” she began, smiling brightly into the principal camera. “Place your palms together like this and…” The women began to bend and stretch, exposing deep cleavage between their full breasts, blue-veined with the enhanced blood flow to their burgeoning mammary glands.

 

Madeleine considered herself fortunate to have carried small throughout her pregnancy, but the endless delays in getting the series under way meant that she was far further gone than she would have liked as the series started and, as they rehearsed and then filmed, she had to call on all her dancer’s fitness to disguise the increasing awkwardness and discomfort of carrying a by now almost full term child in her swollen tummy, as she led the group in their routines. Curt shifted surreptitiously in his seat to make more room in his jeans for his long stiff penis. His eyes were fixed on his instructor’s beautiful face. She was smiling smoothly for the camera, but he could see the effort of concentration in her eyes, and of late a rosy flush of exertion had risen ever more readily from her softly heaving breasts to her face as the filming proceeded. He understood that she was reaching the stage of late pregnancy when such effort was becoming harder but fortunately the end of their filming was now at hand and he felt exhilarated that this series would uniquely showcase the capabilities of a woman deep in her final trimester. The episode was reaching its climax. “This last position is known in many cultures as the birthing position ...” Madeleine began, trying not to allow her soft puffing to be picked up by the microphone. “… Let’s begin by placing your hands together and your forearms to your thighs ...” She took a deep breath and bent forward, her muscular legs spread apart and bent at the knees, her great belly dropping down, low and round, between her thighs. “Slowly lower your hips down towards your heels ...” The girls, palms together and fingers pointed skywards, sank as one into a deep squat, thighs wide apart, pelvic floors stretched open. Madeleine felt a disconcertingly sudden pressure between her gaping thighs and suppressed a grimace. “… Press your elbows to your knees and keep your palms pressed together …” she gasped out. All at once that pressure was changing into something else and more frightening. All across the unsupported lower curve of her straining belly was an intense cramping pain. “… This is also a great place to Kegel because your pelvic floor is open and relaxed …” she forced out, her brave smile remaining fixed for the camera but her eyes opening wide in shock. She was wracked with pain but, most desperately, she couldn’t move, couldn’t risk trying to push herself out of this vulnerable position for fear of what any working of her muscles might do to her clenching uterus: she might break her waters all over the stage before the watching cameras! There was a pause. “You can also Kegel here …” she improvised, “… and even better, no one can see you are doing it!” she babbled on, tears of pain and humiliation stinging her eyes. A titter came from the girls behind her, uncertain of what was going on. She concentrated hard on her tight, aching belly, willing it to relax, willing the hard cramp to dissipate. She was dimly aware of a stirring

beyond the camera. Curt, to whom she owed all this, who had been so supportive of her, was becoming alarmed; she was going to ruin the finale of his series. She blinked away tears, and then realised that a miracle was happening. Her cramping abdomen was easing, her crisis was ebbing. She sucked air gratefully. “Take one more breath …” she panted. “To come out of this one let’s place the hands forward … rocking your thighs back, sit on your heels.” She had made it! Her legs now jackknifed either side of her hugely gravid tummy, the pressure still there but controllable. “… Take a couple of breaths here …” her boobs pushed fiercely against her supporting bra as she filled her lungs. “And up!” she almost groaned as she called on all the strength in her dancer’s legs to thrust her trembling body upright. “There! That wasn’t too hard was it?” she panted to the camera. “And the good thing is, it gets easier the more you practice!” Only it doesn’t, she said to herself as the episode moved to wrap-up. It just gets harder until, one day, the baby comes forcing itself down that open canal. She knew that she was getting closer to that day. A lot closer.

 

As the swollen-bodied beauties made their way to the changing rooms and showers, Curt quickly stepped forward to where Madeleine was standing, running her hands over her heavily gravid belly. “Ok for tonight?” he asked anxiously. He noticed how drained she looked from the shoot. He supposed that her advanced condition meant that she was reaching the point where she needed to be careful over such exercise. Fortunately they were now finished so she could relax in the time remaining before the birth. Madeleine felt a thrill of excitement through her hormone-charged body, both at the closeness of his strong masculine form and at the word tonight. They had arranged only to get together for a drink after the shoot, but Curt’s words seemed to promise something more substantial and more intimate. “Sure,” she breathed, smiling brightly at him, trying not to let him see how weakened she was by the cramping she had just experienced. “Great. I need to finish of a couple of things here. Why don’t you come and find me when you’ve changed,” he said. She waddled carefully to the showers and struggled awkwardly to divest herself of her clinging leotard. Once under the soothing waters, Madeleine ran her soapy hands over and over the full curves of her massive belly. She was now so far gone in her pregnancy that she was no longer feeling the round firmness of her muscular sheets and her water bag but, beneath the tight, thinly-stretched wall of her straining uterus, the hard bony limbs of her fully grown fetus; here, the feet braced against her rib-cage, there a hard little bottom. Hopefully that curve was a backbone, presented forward to make it easier to push her baby’s head through the narrow gap in her pelvis and down her stretching vagina. Below here there should be a head, but … no, as she pressed her hands into the under-curve of her abdomen she could not find the bump of her baby’s head. It was clearly now buried too far down into her lower pelvis. Madeleine leaned back and allowed the myriad water jets of the shower to cascade onto her aching body. She had always been smallbreasted, but now she had boobs, round and swollen with the masses of glandular tissue which had developed within them, too much for her once pert titties to readily contain so that thin red streaks had appeared around the nipples showing the damage being done to the delicate skin of her breasts. Even worse in Madeleine’s eye’s, however, were the thickened, rubbery nipples, now a chocolaty brown colour, which had grown at the ends of her breasts. She couldn’t imagine that any man could find the meaty protuberances attractive. “I look like a mother of six!” she thought mournfully,  looking down at her disgusting baby pacifiers. The shower jets were not having their usual soothing effect. Madeleine still felt uncomfortable pressure in her lower abdomen and the water stimulating her sensitive nipples seemed only to be tightening her belly muscles around the body of her child. She sighed and stepped from the shower. The other women were almost finished dressing, full breasts cupped into supporting brassieres and casual maternity tops tugged over ripening bellies. As she toweled off, gently patting dry her tender breasts and softly rubbing her tautly swollen tummy, the others said their final tearful goodbyes and then they came down to give her a hug, naked as she was, pressing their high, growing bellies against her huge, low-hanging uterus. She could see in their eyes that they all knew she would be the first of them to be rushed to the hospital with her baby’s head beginning to push through her cervix. Once they had gone, she opened the bag she had brought with her with clothes for the promised date. It had been hard to work out what to wear. Curt was sure to patronize somewhere reasonably fashionable, but it wasn’t easy to look smart at her advanced stage of pregnancy, quite apart from the small matter of what she had that would still actually fit her. In the end she had chosen a black, high-waisted maternity dress in a simple but clinging fabric, with a wrap around bodice which nevertheless plunged low at the front to make the most of her swollen cleavage, and which stretched down to just above her knees. It left nothing to the imagination regarding the enormous size of her belly, but she figured it was probably time to come clean, as it were, about just how far her pregnancy had run. Hanging her dress on the nearby hook, she drew from her bag the  expensive lacy underwear she had brought. She had always been accustomed to snapping her bras quickly over her small high breasts, but now she had to fasten the back strap at the top of her tummy, tug the garment around and then up under the drooping underside of her heavy breasts and then finally lift the supporting shoulder straps up her arms, flipping the soft cups of the bra up over the tender tips of her breasts. That done she squirmed and pushed at her boobs to settle them comfortably in their nests. Despite having upped her bra to a C-cup, it could scarcely contain the swollen monsters and lush, blue-veined flesh welled up above the down-straining cups. Bending over, she next thrust one awkward foot after the other through the leg holes of her panties and, with a huff of effort, stood upright once again, hauling the flimsy stretch fabric up her full thighs until it snuggled against the hairy mount she could no longer see beneath her outstretched belly. She had not chosen maternity panties for tonight and so her flimsy garment had to sit precariously on what remained of once well-defined hips. She looked despairingly at her swollen, ungainly body in the mirror for a moment and then reached for the dress. After several minutes of fighting with the clinging, slightly stretchy fabric of the dress, she at last stood, puffing a little and red faced with effort, her breasts pushing the bodice of the dress open to display deep milky cleavage and every curve and plane of her enormous belly pressed tautly to the straining weave at her midriff. “Hhoo,” she sighed, gathering her breath. Then “HHhhoooo!! …” in surprise, one hand moving swiftly to the lower curve of her uterus where she felt a sudden stitch. “OOOHHhhhooooo! ... OOOHHhhhooooo! …” she said to the mirror, her eyes going wide in alarm as she bent forward, both hands grasping for the fetus within her womb which was suddenly hard and cramped across the whole broad width of her abdomen. “OHH NO! …” she gasped in shock. It was happening again, The same urgent discomfort she had experienced during the shooting. Her body began to tremble and weaken. She had to put one hand out to steady herself on the counter below the mirror, the other clutched and rubbed and massaged and soothed the stinging, burning wall of her uterus, which felt suddenly hard as a board beneath her anxious fingers. She lowered her head and moaned, alone in the changing room, as she had not been able to do in the eyes of the crew and cameras. Tears of pain sprang to her eyes and she blinked them away fiercely. “HHHhhhooooo! ... HHHhhhooooo! ... HHHhhhooooo! …” she puffed rhythmically which she had read could ease the stress on a mother’s tightening belly. At least the pain wasn’t getting any worse. She could cope with it. Wait it out. And so eventually she was able to soften her breathing. “Haaaaaahhh ... Haaaaaahhh …” Gingerly she straightened her bent torso, once more took the weight of her heavily packed uterus fully on her pelvic ring. Her face in the mirror was deeply flushed and damp with a sheen of sweat. A little shakily after her renewed ordeal she washed her face in cooling water and combed her hair. For a moment she stood before the mirror, both hands gently caressing her out-thrust belly, soothing the still hot and tense muscles holding her babe. She said a little prayer. Nothing should be allowed to get in the way of this date with the man of her dreams.

 

Curt had begun to worry as the time went on: the other girls had emerged and gone their way. He finished the remaining instructions for his crew and then gasped as he turned and there she was, coming through the door, moving gracefully despite the swollen bulk of her belly. Her dress was simple and formal, but appeared almost painted on, so tightly did it cling to every full curve of her gravid body. Her face was slightly flushed above the pale, translucent flesh of her bosom, flesh within which a thick web of purple nurturing veins showed plainly, running down into the plump breasts which strained against bra and bodice and seemed almost to be bursting out of the low-cut neckline. But arousing as that sight was, it was impossible for the eye not to be drawn to Madeleine’s belly, so huge and ripe and lowhanging, like a massive fruit about to fall to ground. His prick stiffened painfully in his pants as Curt moved close to the gravid beauty. Her strong boned face tilted up to his and he barely controlled himself from clutching her to him and thrusting his tongue deep between those lush lips. Instead he leant over and planted a conventional kiss on her cheek. “You look ravishing,” he murmured huskily in her ear. Her belly had pressed against him and she giggled awkwardly, flushing a fetching crimson. “Can I feel it?” he breathed. She nodded and he placed a palm reverently on the great boulder, stroking it softly and marveling at how solid and alive it felt, her stretched muscles tight and hard and the bony form of the fetus within clearly discernible beneath the surface. His blood was pumping in his ears and in his rigid prick. He berated himself for not making a move on the luscious mother-to-be earlier. He couldn’t allow himself to imagine that she would welcome his urgent manhood into her birth canal at such an advanced stage in her child’s development. He would have to resign himself to an evening of frustrated look and touch. They went to a fashionable bar where Curt was able to treat himself to an arm round that glorious belly as he helped her manouever herself onto a narrow bar stool. As she sipped her non-alcoholic drink she twice excused herself with a muttered comment about the capacity of the pregnant bladder. He realised that the effort of walking from the bar to the ladies rest room must be more demanding than she pretended as she always returned flushed and breathing heavily. Little did he imagine how, once the rest room door closed behind her, Madeleine gasped and clutched a hand to her belly, staggering the last few steps into a stall puffing with effort, her body bent over her hardened uterus. Nor how she then sat, the tight black dress tugged up to her waist, her muscular legs splayed wide to in an effort to relieve the growing pressure and panted through the duration of the pain. After each bout subsided she got wearily to her feet, smoothed her dress down once more, splashed cooling water on her face and returned to the bar. She was timing her pains at nearly 30 minutes apart. If she contacted her obstetrician he would not want her to go to the clinic until her labour was much further advanced. She had time to continue to enjoy his company, and the bloodheating intensity of his gaze.

 

“What are you doing for dinner, honey, I mean … are you … do you need to get back to anyone … ?” “Nope, I’m all on my own at home … well, not for long,” she giggled awkwardly, stroking her belly, “So … “ Curt couldn’t believe how anyone could knock up this gorgeous creature and then disappear, but he wasn’t about to question his luck. And so they went to dinner. The restaurant was softly lit at their intimate table for two. She leant forward as they murmured idle nothings to each other with surprising intensity. Above the table her bulging breasts hung low and open to his avid gaze while beneath she had surreptitiously tugged up her confining skirt to enable her legs to splay wide apart, the better to accommodate the swollen boulder of her uterus pressing down between her thighs. As they talked, Curt’s eyes were transfixed by the tracks of the thick purple vessels in Madeleine’s lushly ripened melons. As she leaned towards him, the weight of her growing nursery pushed open her bodice and he could even see how the hem of her lacy bra bit into the soft flesh as it fought to support her globes. Her breathing was full and passionate, quietly lifting and squeezing her swollen bosom and when, as often, she worked a soothing hand over the upper slope of her great, outstretched belly, the material of her bodice was pulled tight across her boobs so that the outline of twin thickly erect nipple stalks poked up beneath the fabric. Madeleine’s parted lips, heaving bosom, deepening flush and glazing eyes at this time were not solely the result of her rising sexual arousal. Fortunately, in the dim light, Curt could not discern the tension in her face nor see, beneath the table, the urgency with which her thighs strained further apart and an anxious hand gripped and kneaded her harshly cramping belly. After her several painful attacks, Madeleine was at last gaining greater control of the fierce contractions which gripped her strong, muscular abdomen and uterus. Through soft panting, a widening of the gap between her legs to relieve the intensifying pressure and a withdrawing within herself to endure the burning pain which spread across the great circumference of her tightening tummy she could survive, murmuring to herself like a mantra: “It will pass soon … It will pass soon …” and then, ominously, “Only twenty minutes this time …”. Although she knew the time was approaching that she must make plans to travel to the birthing facility to be aided in the pushing out of her babe, Madeleine’s throbbing vulva would not let her decline Curt’s invitation to return to his house for a nightcap and so they left, Madeleine, despite her best efforts, waddling awkwardly from the heavy weight of her child who felt now to be jammed impossibly low down between her hips.

 

As Curt struggled with the key to the door, Madeleine leant desperately back against the wall in the shadows, mouth open and breathing deeply, her hands locked around her huge, low-hanging uterus, drawn hard with the harsh contraction which had taken her in its grip as they came up the stairs. Oh Lord, this was a bad one! Her face was going red with effort, a sheen of sweat standing out on her brow. Fortunately Curt was fumbling somewhat with the key and giving her this respite to manage and ride through the fiery band of pain which seared across her tightly clenched womb. Her pains were coming inexorably swifter now and lasting longer. She no longer dared look to her watch to see how long since she had been taken with the last one. She kept repeating to herself that labour with a first baby takes an age to progress. There must still be time to enjoy this evening that she never wanted to end. She would have the nightcap and then call for a taxi. Perhaps she would have the taxi take her straight to the birthing facility. No sooner were they in the door than Curt took her in his arms, crushing her to him without regard to the hugeness of the uterus compressed between them. Heat radiated up off Madeleine’s lovely, damply-flushed face. He kissed her deeply, squirming against her so that his achingly hard dick rubbed against the solid bulk of her tummy. She panted, wide-eyed as the clinch was broken. He steered her through the nearest door into the kitchen. His hands took hold of her low, taut belly, soothing and thrilling her aching muscles with his firm, masculine caress. “You are a fertile goddess, my love,” he murmured huskily in her ear. Madeleine felt her vulva swell and her clitoris stiffen within her panties. Could it be that he wished to take pleasure with her even swollen and awkward as she was? His hands stroked upwards over the full curve of her fertile tummy, up to where her plump breasts strained heavily within her lacy bra. Then, as he kissed her longingly and tenderly he reached down to the hem of her dress. His hands came up the satin skin of her thighs, feather light on her lush flesh, over the strong, protruding globes of her muscular dancer’s bottom, then around under the shelf of her downward pressing tummy to finger the hot, damp wisp of fabric between her legs. She moaned wantonly and rubbed her burning clit on the inquiring finger. It was so long since she had been pleasured by a man (and no man had ever pleasured her quite like this!) that she felt her body already climbing the hill towards climax. He swiftly knelt and dragged her panties down her quivering thighs. The musk rose pungently from her now exposed wet, hairy, greedy mouth. Rising he took hold of the clingy dress, standing and lifting, peeling the fabric over the bare mounts of her bottom, over the huge, down-pointing belly standing now starkly out from her body in the half light, over the full brassiere cups slumping slightly under the weight of her fertile breasts but then drawn up high and round as she lifted her arms to allow the dress to peel over her head and be discarded in a heap on the floor. She stood before him now clad only in her well-stretched, black lacy bra. He walked around her drinking in her swollen, gravid beauty. At the back he pulled fiercely on the straining bra straps to free the hooks supporting her fattened baby feeders. She felt the tension release and her heavy mammaries roll free, beginning the downward sag which would be finally caught by her inadequate supporting ligaments. However his hands followed the fluttering away of her delicate lingerie, hefting her dense glandular flesh and fingering lovingly the dark, fat and very stiff nipples as they popped out. Quickly, violently, he tugged off his own clothes. He was conscious that he had not asked permission to fuck her gloriously swollen body, but her softly panting silence, the hot, intense gaze with which she perused his lean, fit torso and long stiff dick as they emerged from his clothes led him to feel that she was prepared for him to continue. He lifted her up onto the benchtop, her back angled to the wall, her bottom he pulled forward until it was almost at the edge of the bench. Her still athletic thighs parted either side of his body as he pushed forward, running his curved penis up and down the gaping, steamy gash that opened before him. Her huge, packed belly was tight and shiny as it rose high from her hips and she realised that she looked as if she had assumed position to birth her child; only it was taking something big into her channel she had in mind for the moment rather than squeezing something even larger out. Madeleine had long since lost the ability to trim more than the outer edges of her bush, and her brown locks had grown thick and silky over the now aroused and engorged lips of her soon to be maternal vulva. Her lips were stiffened, pointing out and away, opening a broad canyon of wet, pink folds topped by a well defined pencil of flesh that brought shudders to Madeleine’s body every time Curt’s hard weapon bounced off its turgid stalk. Her body was faint with lust and she felt ready to achieve her orgasm from this frotting of her lips and clit. She understood entirely why Curt would not want to penetrate her vagina, so impossibly low and swollen was her uterus. She giggled hysterically to herself that if he did he might well meet a baby coming the other way! Curt slid his prick more and more urgently in the gooey mucus coating Madeleine’s pouting lips. The sharp, musky scent billowing up from her gaping womanhood was taking away his senses, maddening him with lust. Reaching down, he lodged his immensely swollen prick-head in the round opening he knew was being readied for the passage of her child, but feeling no complaint he pressed his luck, and his rigid organ inside. She cried out with the intensity of her rapture that this wonderful man was willing to enter her cave. Excitedly she flicked up her dancer’s legs so that her ankles locked about his body and swooned at the size of the ball of flesh distending her lips. Curt was too far gone to last. Careful not to push too deeply towards the taut mass of the belly springing up just above her widened slit, he jabbed rapidly in and out several times and then erupted in a long pumping flood of virile man-cream.

 

Immediately he was distraught at this violation of the precious gravid goddess whose legs were wrapped around him. He leaned forward, gasping at the strength of his orgasmic release rather than any weariness, he felt he could fuck this woman all night. “I’m sorry,” he moaned, pressing his head to the massive belly of the woman he had wronged. “It was just …” he mumbled incoherently. “You’re just … I mean I couldn’t … you’re just too damn beautiful!” he blurted out. Madeleine was not quite sure if he was apologising for fucking her without permission or for coming so quickly. Her mind was a hormonal fog, her abdomen felt tight and bloated and tense and all she really wanted was more stimulation of her achingly aroused pussy. Curt stood straight and lifted Madeleine carefully off the benchtop. Her back felt good for being straight again. Wordlessly he tenderly took her hand and led her down the hall and into his bedroom. Madeleine waddled with difficulty behind him, streams of his thick white jism flowing out of her crowded vagina and down her thighs. He had to help her sit on the bed. As she landed with a grunt he noted how her legs, as well as bending at the knees, had to spread wide apart to either side of her overripe belly. Her gorgeous, plump breasts slumped downwards onto the slope of her mountain, her thick, tumescent nipples waiting for a sucking babe. He sat beside her on the bed. He reached for her dark teats and bent his face to her lips. She kissed back urgently, gasping as he tugged on her tense baby feeders. “Could we …?” he murmured. “… I mean would you … again ...?” “God yes … please” she moaned in response. “But it might not be … I mean it’s hard to get …” she stroked her huge belly for emphasis. “Hands and knees?” he suggested diffidently and immediately flushed with embarrassment in case the suggestion would offend the pregnant beauty. But she responded by beginning to clamber laboriously onto the bed, puffing with the effort of manoeuvering her swollen, awkward form. As she crawled heavily onto the bed Madeleine was grateful to be able to bury her face in the soft pillows. Already her belly was tightening painfully once more. She sucked air as a fiery sheet of pain gripped her child-swollen uterus and moaned with the agony and the relief of feeling her throbbing, aching vulva receive the glorious knob of her lover’s pleasure stick. As he waded up the bed to position himself against her quivering bottom, poking so vulnerably in the air, Curt thought that from that angle she might not even be pregnant. While her firmly rounded bottom was probably a little more seductively curved than normal, her upper thighs bearing a layer of soft flesh over her well developed quadriceps, her back was slim and long, flaring to delicate feminine shoulders. It was only when he reached beneath her he could feel the enormous, low hanging abdomen, tight and hard under his hands, strong ripples moving around the tense muscular walls through which he could feel her child’s bony limbs. The feel of her fertile completeness was stimulating him fiercely and he began to thrust, carefully but energetically into her sodden tunnel. His hands strayed further up, onto the plump dangling mounds of her swollen breasts, their stiff, succulent nipples hanging directly down, poking into his palms. Madeleine’s face, buried in the pillows, was contorted with effort, sweat pouring off her heated flesh. Intense feelings were battering at her consciousness: the pain of a terribly extended contraction, the pleasure of the sweet stimulation of her demanding pussy. His strong, protective hands on her clamping tummy were a benison that made her want to weep for joy, the working of her fat nipples sent both a sudden intensifying of the cramping pain in her uterus and a spasm of orgasmic excitement into her vagina, causing it to busily milk at the thrusting rod within. Slowly, with a myriad mini-climaxes, and riding all the while the pains of a labouring woman, Madeleine reached for the complete orgasm her overstimulated sex so urgently craved. Curt, driven wild by the sight, sound and smell of his heaving, moaning mate was pistoning furiously into her short hot cave, his balls contracting painfully as they prepared a second flood of virile cream in a matter of minutes. Madeleine squirmed and thrust lewdly with her hips and suddenly she was there, the terrible pain in her clenching uterus fading away as she was overtaken by a crushing pleasure washing over her organs of generation, the spasming of her abdominal muscles at once concentrated in her convulsing vagina. As his love worked herself on his pole and then exploded into uncontrolled thrashing and crying, Curt’s heavy gonads fired again, sending copious, foamy waves of hot jism spurting from her gaping canyon and surging down her thighs. Madeleine collapsed, panting on her side. She was deeply drained by the strength of her heavy contraction, and the intensity of the shuddering climax which followed. Curt ran a hand possessively over the opulent, sweaty curve of her intoxicating figure. “My God!” he breathed. “You’re just so hot. It didn’t hurt you did it? … I mean the … and all?” “Uuhh huhh,” Madeleine managed weakly, shaking her head to convey her meaning. “We need a spa. Freshen up.” he said brightly. Rising, he padded out of the room opening a door onto the balcony outside. Madeleine groaned softly. Perhaps a spa really was what she needed to find the energy to get her labouring body to the hospital. For she was very aware that she must leave Curt soon for the lonely task ahead of her.

 

Having waddled precariously to the spa pool set in the decking outside Curt’s bedroom, Madeleine sat gratefully in the refreshing waters. Her hands stretched out along the rim of the pool on either side while the gently caressing bubbles floated around her aching tummy and discretely covered the dark, rubbery tips of her heavy, drooping breasts. Her legs relaxed and drifted apart, allowing the insistent pressure in her pelvis to dissipate. H

Exhausted by the painful tightening of her uterus and drained by the shattering climaxes she had enjoyed on the end of Curt’s wonderful dick, she drifted into a reverie where the continuation of her periodic cramps seemed no more than mild discomfort against the general feeling of satiated well-being pervading her body. She was unaware of how her baby’s head, pressing firmly against the enclosed rim of its mother’s pelvis, though which it must pass, slowly compressed in diameter pushing ever further through her gap. Occasionally the discomfort would lead her to draw her legs lazily up towards her swollen abdomen and then back, quietly easing her baby’s head deeper down and stretching her own ligaments, loosened by birthing hormones. At length Curt rose up out of the pool and padded into the house to arrange some drinks. This brought Madeleine’s foggy mind back into some sort of focus. She was not sure how long she had been there, but it was surely time for her to make her way to the birthing facility before her labour reached its full intensity. She waded across the tub like a great whale, immediately feeling a renewed sense of urgency between her legs now that she was upright and moving. She began to clamber her way up the steps out of the pool. She had pulled the enormous bulk of her gravid belly clear of the water and swung one leg awkwardly up and over the side of the pool when she realised that she couldn’t take any weight on her legs. There seemed to be a cannonball lodged painfully between her thighs, pushing them apart. As she gasped sharply and tried to find a way to support herself, an agonising pain ripped through her. It felt like her pelvis was being torn apart. “Curt!” she screamed. “Oh God, Curt! … Help me … The baby!!” Curt came racing back into the bedroom to see the lovely mother-tobe crouched on the deck, just out of the pool, her eyes wide with shock, crying and clutching at the glistening circumference of her belly. “OOooohhh! … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo!” she sobbed, “HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” Madeleine knew she shouldn’t be pushing this early in her labour; knew she mustn’t push here in Curt’s home, but she just couldn’t help it. Her entire pelvis and belly was a sheet of fire and all that life was about right now was the primal need to shove that great bony boulder out from where it was tearing her pelvis to shreds. “HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she howled, her face going redder and redder and her lips curling back from her teeth in a snarl of pain. “OOooohhh! … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … Oooh Curt I’m sorry! … HHHhhhooooo! … it’s not supposed to be like ... HHHhhhooooo! … this!” she cried distractedly. Curt swiftly went to her. “It’s OK honey,” he said, bending down to grasp her arms where she reached up for him. It’s all going to be OK.” Madeleine forced herself painfully upright into his arms. At once she felt something move in her traumatised pelvis and suddenly the grinding pain in her bones was gone to be replaced by a ferocious burning in her

tummy muscles and then fluid was gushing out of her plump, gaping pussy lips, splashing down her thighs and all over her lover’s legs. As Madeleine clung desperately to him, Curt had slipped a hand under the lovely soft curve of her bottom and pulled her body against him. With her glorious fertile uterus pressing hard into him he could feel the rippling strain in her powerful belly muscles. She cried out and then warm water was suddenly pouring down his legs. It took a moment for him to realise what had happened, and then: “Oh my God! My waters … I’ve broken my waters!!” she wailed, gasping and squirming in his arms. He could feel the thick hot fingers of her  nipples pushing into him “That’s not good, right?” he said. “That means things are starting to happen. I’ll go and ring for an ambulance and we’ll have you to the hospital in no time.” “Don’t leave me!” she sobbed, piteously. “I need you … the pain, it hurts so bad!” and clung to him the tighter. “It’s OK babe, whatever you want, I’m here for you babe,” he crooned soothingly. “Oh Curt!” she moaned, gasping and hiccoughing. “I never wanted it like this … here, all over your floor.” “Um … Is there someone else who should be here … with you I mean?” he asked, diffidently. “Noooooo …” she said, sounding so lonely and forlorn that it tugged at his heartstrings. “Right. Good then. I’m glad I was with you then,” he said. “Now like I said …” “Oh God,” she moaned, “It’s coming again ...AAAaaaoooowwww!! … OOhhh shit it HHuuuurts!! …” She slumped in his arms and he lowered her carefully to the floor. She sank into an impossibly wide-kneed squat, her sweet hairy mound stretched taut between her thighs. “HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! …” she panted fiercely, fighting for air. “… Got to push, I’m sorry Curt, just got to puuuush! ... HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she wailed. Her arms were still reached up to him and she hauled down on them, almost pulling him off balance. Between her thighs he could see her pussy lips tugged apart, as if by an uncontrollable pressure within. Her face had gone puce with effort. “… gnaaaaaaHHH!! …” she exploded finally, “HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … Ohh God, it hurts so bad! … HHhhhfffffff! …” “What about the yoga, honey?” he offered, “Like this afternoon.” “AAAaauuugggh!! …. you stupid bastard!,” she sobbed, “that was a fucking movie … HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … This is for real! … This baby’s coming … NOW!! …” “We need to get you an ambulance,” he said again.

 

“Didn’t you hear me?” she screamed. “THE FUCKING BABY”S COMING NOW!! … HHhhuuuuhhhh ... HHhhuuuuhhhh … Got to get up … OOooffffffff!” as he obediently pulled her upright. She buried her head in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she said in a muffled voice. “Ohh God, Curt, help meeee! I can’t take the pain ... HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooo! … Too fucking much!” “It’ll be OK, honey,” Curt found himself surprisingly calm, her need for support overriding his own sense of panic. “The bed .. Let’s get you on the bed.” “Noooooo! The mess …” she moaned, tensing and pulling downwards as he manouvered her awkwardly towards the bed. By the foot of the bed she slumped down again. “OOhh god yes!” she gasped. “Support for my back!” Her belly was quite a bit smaller than it had been, he thought as he looked down on her, and very low between her legs. Her short dark hair was plastered to her head with sweat, her face streaked with sweat and tears. Her naked body was flushed with effort, her plump breasts with their big chocolate nipples swayed down to her labouring belly. He thought he had never seen a woman look so lovely. Her chest heaved as she sucked deep, panting breaths, her back pressed against the foot of the bed. She looked up at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Waiting for the next one ...” she murmured, fear and determination in her voice. Her hands gripped and massaged the tight ball of her belly. “Oh Curt ...” she moaned. “I think it’s starting … Oh Curt! …” Her hands reached for her firm, muscular thighs. She took a strong grip on their undersides and tugged each shapely leg up and out stretching her lushly fleeced mons wide, causing the red, glistening lips to part into a taut, tear-shaped opening. She lowered her chin to her chest and her face went tight and dark with concentration, her lips thin, her neck ropey with clenched tendons. He realised that she was pushing. “HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …” she groaned from somewhere deep in her chest. “ HHHhhhooooo! … HHHhhhooooooo! … HHHHNNNnnnggghghhh!! …”Her belly visibly rippled from the mighty pressure she was putting it under; her powerful dancer’s muscles straining to their utmost capacity to drill her weighty fetus through the narrow gap it must pass to be brought into the world. Her wonderful swollen tummy was now hard as a drum, contracted to a small shiny ball standing painfully out from her abdomen. And between those straining thighs her skin was bulging out in a huge bowl, paper thin and bloodless at the edges, looking ready to tear at any moment, and the tear shaped hole was gaping impossibly wide and round, wider than it could ever have been stretched before and yet not encompassing even the larger portion of the dark hairy head which was thrusting against it. “AAaaaeeeeeyyyiiiiiii!! …” she howled in anguish. “God, I can’t! … It’s toooooo big!! … It hurts so bad!! …” With heavy, anguished pants

her eyes focussed on him again, imploring him for relief that he couldn’t give. “Maddy, you’re almost there!” he exhorted, “I can see the head! It’s coming. You’re really doing this!” “Oh God, Curt ...” she sobbed. “… It’s so sore! … I’m going to tear my pussy ... It’s just too big!” He knelt beside her and put his arms around her hot, quivering body. “You’re stretching beautifully,” he reassured her. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. I’m going to look after you. I love you!” As she turned a tired smile on him, illuminated at once with raised hope, he felt terrible about the false promises. But it’s true that I love her, he told himself in surprise. His words sank into her like a balm. “How could you ...” she gulped through her desperate tears, turning her blotchy, sweat-streaked face up to his, “… like this?” But what she saw in his strong brown eyes sent endomorphins gushing through her tortured body. She was no longer alone! She knew it was the hormones coursing through her that were making her so desperate for male support. She was a woman at the most traumatic and dependent moment of her life. But those words that she had never dared to imagine hearing were giving her strength. Strength to endure this terrible ordeal. She gasped, harsh rasping breaths, because the cruel, uncontrollable fisting of her abdomen was beginning again, and every time was now harder and more agonising than the last. He still had his arm around her as she squirmed, found purchase, and hauled her thighs yet wider, wider even than the splits she had perfected as a dancer. She realised that a wail of agony was ringing around the room, and that it came from her, but the excruciating pain that was searing through her pelvic floor left her unable to take in any other sensory perception. She was proud of the strength of her fit, hard muscles, but her regular exercises strengthening her body for dance had toughened the sheets of muscle designed to keep things inside her pelvis and those sheets now fought their ravishing and breach by the big bony head of her baby. In the white hot fire of pain that burned in her brain she knew only that she must drive this baby through her entrance at whatever damage to her torn body. Her face went scarlet with the effort of her ferocious pushing; rivers of sweat poured from her labouring body as she pushed herself beyond any effort she had ever needed to endure as a dancer; her cries rang out again and again. But now she knew she could not be stopped. Her lover’s arm around her gave her the strength to endure. She could feel her strong muscles stretching beyond any limit and giving, fibre by painful fibre to the bulldozing boulder within her. “My God, Maddy! Yes! …” Curt was bellowing. “Yes girl … Push! … I can see it coming … You’re doing it!” It was too big. She knew that now. Could feel it in every nerve ending in her burning labia. Like a rubber band stretched to snapping point by the impossibly big head crowing in her overstretched sex, there was no further give. She almost welcomed the expected agony of a rip in her delicate sex if it would allow this ordeal to end. “What’s happening!! …” she shrieked. “Get it out of me … Ohhhh please Curt, help me! … It’s stuck! … I can’t take it any more! … Make something happen! … Ohh God! My pussy!! … AAAAaaaaaeeeeeeeiiiii!!!” “It’s coming babe! I can see the head, it’s almost here! You’ve almost done it!” he shouted. Curt was beside himself with excitement. He had watched in awe as Madeleine’s once petite vulva had stretched out and out and then out some more, and all the time the rough matted head of her babe eased, a millimeter at a time, further out of the iron tight ring of her vulva. He was sure that she must rip open, his breath was coming painfully now with the tension, but he could also see that she was so close, that the head was now almost at its widest point in her gap. Madeleine jerked and twisted, trying to ease the agony in her distended pussy, and something did the trick. Suddenly the implacable mass of her baby’s body was moving forward more quickly. The head seemed to roll and a small, wrinkled face popped free of her hairy lips. Madeleine gasped and moaned with relief as the intense pain eased a little. “Ohh Curt,” she sobbed. “That was so hard!” And then she began to realise. “Curt ... the baby. Curt, the baby’s still in me! Curt, what happens now?” “I don’t know, baby,” he answered honestly. “But whatever it is we’ll soon find out. Just rest baby. You’ve done great. We’re almost there.” “Madeleine got another needed dose of that glow when he said ‘we’. She sucked air greedily, then: “Oh … Ooohh Curt! I think … OOhhhh My God it’s happening again … Nooooo Curt don’t leave me! …” “Got to catch the baby,” he explained as her positioned himself between her widespread thighs.” “Oh yeah! … I guess … HHhoooonnnnnnnggggg!! … HHhhuuuuhhhh ... HHhhuuuuhhhh … It’s not moving! … What’s happening? … Ooohhh ... HHhoooonnnnnnnggggg!! …” Curt’s hands were hovering around the head protruding from Madeleine’s bruised and swollen labia. He longed to give it a bit of a wiggle or a yank to help his poor brave lover, he was sure he had heard of that being done, but he didn’t dare. Pray God she would be able to do it on her own. God, if you’re up there I promise to believe in you if you help Madeleine now! At that very moment, Madeleine, crying with effort, thrust with her legs and back and surged up off the floor onto her haunches twisting and stretching and the babe’s shoulders suddenly jerked clear of whatever was holding them in and the slimy little form squirted inelegantly into Curt’s fumbling hands.

 

“Oh god Maddy, you did it! He … umm … she’s here! Oh Maddy you’re so wonderful, I love you!” Madeleine’s eyes misted over at the sight of the funny purple form, still attached to its ugly ropey cord which twisted out of her gaping vagina, in Curt’s strong, protective hands. She reached out and felt her daughter’s hot steamy body for the first time. Curt’s hands slid wordlessly around hers. I’m going to love him, she thought. He gave me the strength to do this. He was my birth karma and I’m not going to let him go! And to Curt’s astonishment she burst into loud, noisy tears.