2 shorts dropster - Stories and Text Pastebin

TEXT 186

2 shorts dropster By fishy9890 on 29th August 2021 03:58:13 AM

1. Graduation Present
Hayley was one of the most accomplished girls at her school. She was tall and slim with a ready smile and long auburn hair. As well as being graceful and athletic, captain of the school tennis team and a strong swimmer, she was intelligent and regularly topped her year in English and History. Hayley also got horny just like any other bright and healthy teenage girl, particularly midway between her periods when her young ovaries were readying her monthly egg. Although all the boys had the hots for Hayley, she was firmly in love with her boyfriend Hal. On a saturday night they would drive up to the secluded spot in the hills where all the teenagers went to make out. There, in the car, they would smooch and nibble and tongue and he would stroke her firm, high breasts beneath her top, making her nipples hard and aching and her panties hot and damp. Hayley was a careful, responsible girl and felt very safe because Hal’s car was a sweet little Audi with separate front seats and a console and gear change between them. But one day, at the time of the month when her frustratioon peaked, her clamouring body needed more and, lifting her short skirt she climbed over the console and straddled Hal’s legs. The first month she just enjoyed the rubbing of Hal’s jean-covered bulge on her panty-clad mons. When it happened again the next month she freed his long, hot rod and rubbed her wet panty crotch up and down its length until he shot up under her top. She felt so deliciously bad with his hot, slimy jism splattered all over her narrow tummy. Thus, on the third month when the urges peaked again, she tugged her panties aside and frotted her puffy, sparsely-haired labia directly on his throbbing erection and was rewarded with her first real orgasm: shuddering and squeaking she lost control of her panty gusset, his thrusting rod snagged in the sopping lace and he spat the full load of his swollen balls onto the inside of her silky underwear. As she slumped, stunned and sated, thick rivulets of teeming goo oozed down off her panties into the excited, slightly parted lips of her vulva. The relief of her needs kept her safe from temptation for a time but, sure enough, about a month later they were back at the spot and she was writhing on his naked organ once more.
“Oh God, I love you Hayley,” he moaned, “I want to marry you and give you children.” “Oh Hal,” she gasped, “I want that more than anything and she reached up to hold his darling face while she kissed him and completely forgot about the thick, hard penis she was rubbing against. But the thick, hard penis had a mind of its own and, untended, it soon had its head lodged in the narrow channel where Hayley put her tampons. Her eyes went wide and she cried out. She squirmed and wriggled and bucked and succeeded only in jabbing Hal’s sharp pole all the way through her delicate hymen and down her vagina for the first time. After that she couldn’t clear her head until Hal had filled her tummy with semen. She missed her next period. Both sets of parents were most upset at the news but, after Hal and Hayley had explained how in love they were and that they wanted to marry, they calmed down and it was agreed that after the pair had graduated and the baby had come, they could think about a wedding. The school principal was taken aback but, Hayley’s wasn’t the only teen pregnancy and she was glad to see that Hayley intended to continue with her education; and everyone could see that Hal and Hayley made a good pair. And while Hayley made a somewhat controversial role model, she was so superior in attainments to her peers that she was even chosen to present the address at the graduation ceremony. The ceremony was set for a date exactly 31 weeks after losing her hymen in the car, which counted as 33 weeks since her previous period. She would be nearing eight months pregnant. Hayley didn’t mention to anyone that she couldn’t exactly remember actually having that period. On the day of the ceremony Hayley dressed proudly in her graduation frock. It was a silky green, high waisted under her somewhat fuller breasts with a plunging neckline to take advantage of her cleavage. It was close fitting around her big, swollen tummy and then fell sweeping to her ankles. Hayley had carried small through her pregnancy but, in recent weeks, she had become conscious of a greatly increasing sense of tightness and weight in her belly. When her infant moved she could now see bumps on her taut abdomen as its limbs pressed against her. She remained fit and active. She had played competitive tennis until the middle of her term when her tummy began to press through her skimpy tennis frock and her opponents began to complain that they couldn’t play properly for fear of giving her a miscarriage. Now, in the neighbouring park where she went to have pictures taken in her new dress, her high spirits and the fine weather combined to send her gambolling about like the innocent young teenaged girl she really still was. She was puffing and giggling as they returned to the house, but she was also aware of a surprising pressure that she was suddenly feeling deep within her pelvis. She rubbed her belly thoughtfully over lunch. It was very tight and seemed to be hanging particularly low between her thighs. Her
muscles felt tense and stressed. “Too much bouncing around,” she thought to herself, “I guess my tummy muscles get tired more easily now.” Hayley had a seat in the front row of the hall. After introductions and a speech from the Principal it was finally her big moment. She levered herself out of the seat and clambered to the stage, aware of all eyes on her. A murmur of comment went around the room. Some of the parents, at any rate, may not have realised quite how very pregnant she was. She forced herself to a careful measured walk, not showing the effort needed to carry her heavily gravid frame and stood at the slender lectern, her thighs parted enough beneath the long green dress to ease the pressure she was feeling. The audience saw a beautiful young girl. Shining auburn hair hung straight to below her shoulders framing a face still slender but a little softer and plumper than before, her limbs still slim and muscular. The bulge of her plump, pert breasts against the bodice of her dress allowed those at the front to detect the outline of her much enlarged maternal nipples, somewhat incongruous on such a fresh-faced youngster, but otherwise only the full, round belly showed the changes about to come in her life. She stood, head held high and proud. Her proud voice rang out through the hall, a picture of brave, confident womanhood. Her hands were at first clasped beneath her great belly then, involuntarily it seemed, strayed upwards, holding the dress close around the ripe, out-thrust globe. A hand either side surreptitiously stroked her gravid womb. Then the measured flow of her speech stumbled slightly. Her brow wrinkled a little. Quickly she picked up the thread but then, a few words later, strain came into her voice, the flow of the speech faltered. Her face began to flush and she tried to continue, taking deep breaths and stuttering over her words. Suddenly she stopped, a stricken expression on her beautiful young face. Silence gripped the hall. She gave a painful gasp. Her hands were now grasping her belly, fingers digging into the taut surface. Those close to the stage could see the great swollen globe seem to flex and push out beneath the green dress. At first drips began to fall between her legs; then little dribbles appeared, flowing down her legs, pooling at her shoes; then a stream of liquid began to patter onto the stage between her parted feet. She moaned and bent forward, clutching at the lectern with one hand while the other curled around her hard, round belly. A great wet stain was spreading rapidly down the front of the silken green dress. “OoohhhWWW!” she suddenly cried, high and frightened, the microphone sending it bouncing harshly around the hall, and fluid was cascading out of her, splattering and splashing onto the stage and spreading out in a big pool around her before the astonished gaze of parents, children and teachers. Hayley gasped and fought for breath, her long silky hair fell forward about a face crimson with shock and embarrassment. She grasped hold of the lectern and stood upright again, sweat glistening on her brow, her lips trembling. Everyone was still too surprised to move. She took a
deep, shuddering breath and gave a beseeching look to her loved ones, gazing horrified from the audience. “Ooohhh!! ...” she said. “OOOOOOHHHH!!! ...” and she doubled over with a long, heartrending moan, hands clenched in the ruined fabric of her dress, as there, before the assembled throng at the proudest moment of her young life, her uterus tightened to a violent sheet of flame in the first of many hard, searing contractions. By now the Principal had leapt into action and the stricken girl was hustled, sobbing and panting, from the stage. An ambulance was summoned but the modest size of her slightly early baby and the strength of her fit young muscles meant that the dark curly hair of her offspring was already visible between her white, straining thighs by the time the paramedics got there; and so his first son squirted out into Hal’s trembling hands in the crowded confines of the school sick bay. He may have missed most of the ceremony but Hal reckoned that nobody got a better graduation present that day than Hayley and him!
2. All I want for Christmas ...
The cute little blond-haired five-year-old was sitting on Santa’s knee in the grotto in the atrium of the Westvale Mall. As it was Christmas Eve, there was a substantial crowd cramming desperately into the shops and a line of mothers with their children queued to take their turns on the plump knee of the jolly white-bearded man. To one side, by the crimson velvet rope dividing Santa’s grotto from the milling crowds, a woman stood whose fond gaze showed her to be the mother of the blond-haired boy. She looked every inch the successful female executive, her lustrous brown hair pulled severely back from her face and expensive glasses giving her a serious, capable image; the image of masculine efficiency betrayed only by the feminine fertility shown in the full, lush features of her face. But this fertility was revealed even more strongly by her clothes. Above the beautifully-cut, pleated skirt in autumn brown she wore a simple stretch top in charcoal, a colour often favoured to disguise the curves of the pregnant body, but in this case nothing could hide the great, round, protruding abdomen of a woman far gone with child. The top was clearly specifically designed to accommodate the hugely swollen belly of a woman late in her third trimester, but even so it was visibly stretched thin and taut over the young mother’s enormous mound, her navel poking out hard and stretched beneath the straining fabric. She was very obviously close to producing a brother or sister for the young boy on Santa’s knee. Helen sighed softly and shifted her feet. The great size of the babe within her became uncomfortably apparent these days if she stood still for long. After an initial exchange of words young Tom had sat a while in thought. Now he leaned towards Santa’s ear and whispered. Santa gave her a quick look, almost startled she thought, and then bent back to murmur to her little boy. Tom looked so cute perched there that Helen felt a tug at her heartstrings. Her, no doubt, hormonally charged heartstrings. Then she felt a tug somewhere else. A very firm sharp tug. It felt like her baby had planted its feet against the top of her womb and kicked her fiercely. She gave a sharp gasp and clapped a hand to the upper surface of her swollen tummy stroking and soothing the pain there. But even as she did so she felt a cramping pain low down, deeply buried in her pelvis. She felt her face going red as she fought to control her breath. Her hips shifted awkwardly as she sought to relieve the intense cramping pressure. Her hands ran anxiously around the underside of her great belly. She could feel tension in the muscles there. She had been experiencing occasional cramps for a few days now. Her doctor had confirmed that they were nothing to worry about: she continued to hold her baby high in her abdomen. Her due date was a week away and she had planned carefully to finish all that she was working on by today and, once the family Christmas was out of the way (she was entertaining the in-laws this year), she had an appointment already booked at the hospital to be induced which would allow her to return to her desk very early in the new year. Helen allowed herself to pant surreptitiously: “wwhhhhhhh … wwhhhhhhh …” It seemed to help, the discomfort was now ebbing slowly. But that had been a definitely more troublesome incident than her other cramps to date. “I must be overtired,” she thought. “I’ve been overdoing it. That must be it.” She and Tom only needed to chose a present for daddy and then she could get home to a welcome bath. Tom was bouncing off the fat man’s knee and heading happily towards the exit. Taking a deep breath, Helen walked carefully to meet him. Helen was trying hard not to waddle as she walked hand in hand with her son through the mall. She was suddenly feeling quite warm and was conscious of a hot flush spreading over her features. Late pregnancy could do that, she knew. “What do you think Daddy would like for Christmas?” She asked Tom. There was a pause. “He could have the baby too—I wouldn’t mind.” “The baby?” “Yes. I told Santa Claus: all I wanted for Christmas was the new baby. I bet Daddy would like that too.”
“You told Santa what …?” Helen gasped, resting a protective hand involuntarily on her tightly swollen belly. “You can’t have … wwhhh … not for Christmas … wwhhhhh! … Tom! … Oooooohh! …” All thought of chiding Tom forgotten, Helen was biting her lip and clutching her free hand to her uterus which had suddenly gone hard and sore. Her knees trembled and she stumbled a little, then pulled Thomas out of the traffic streaming by so she could sag gratefully against a storefront. “Mummy?” he said, surprised. “It’s nothing, darling ...” she replied. “ … wwhhhhh! … wwhhhhh! … Mummy just got tired ... wwhhhhh! … hhhooooo! … That’s all.” She rubbed at her burning tummy. The sensation was familiar. Only too familiar. “Only I can’t be starting yet,” she told herself, “I just need to sit down somewhere and take the pressure off my belly.” Holding the hand of her young son, the troubled executive waddled slowly towards the toilets located in a side aisle behind the shops. Her knitted top felt suddenly very tight and she longed to flip it up to free her tensely swollen abdomen. Furthermore, with each step she felt an urgent pressure bearing down on her pelvic floor as if her fetus had already started its assault on the maternal cervix. Thomas noted that his mummy seemed suddenly to be having some difficulty walking and her face was becoming quite flushed as if she was involved in something quite vigorous. He had been told that the new baby would come out of his mummy’s tummy and that the reason why he couldn’t watch was that it involved a lot of hard work for mummy. “Is the baby coming already mummy?” he asked hopefully. “What? … no .. Tommy … don’t say things like that!” Helen implored distractedly. “… OoohhHHoooo! … It’s happening again! … Ohh Tommy! …” she gasped. A hard searing pain was spreading across the great curve of her belly and as her hand grasped at the designer top she could feel the muscles of her uterus rippling and hardening. She gripped her son’s hand fiercely. “Quickly,” she hissed, dragging him into the nearest open stall in the women’s toilets. “HHhhhaaaaaaarggghhh!! …” she groaned, doubling over the toilet basin with her arms wrapped around her convulsing tummy. She sank into a squat, her knees spread as far apart as her skirt would allow, anything to ease the terrible pressure she was experiencing, to make more room for the fetal head she could feel beginning to bulldoze its way into the narrow gap in her pelvic bones. “HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! …” she panted urgently, trying to ride through the urgency of the contraction gripping her body like a vice. “ HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … nnnnnggggghhh!! …” Her face contorted and her chin sank down to her chest a she realised she felt a desperate desire to push. “Nnoooooooo!! … “ she moaned, “ HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! …” She flipped up the expensive charcoal top bearing her taut belly, all hard planes and bulges where it pressed tightly on the limbs of her child.
“HHoooooooo …” she puffed gratefully, bowing her head. It seemed that her spasm was ending. After several moments of panting recovery, Helen hauled herself up and plumped heavily onto the toilet seat. She pulled up her skirt and, with some difficulty, tugged down the beautifully styled panties she was wearing beneath. This was the first time that Thomas had viewed the full, womanly sex of his mother. Beneath the taut protruding belly her parted thighs displayed a plump mound, thickly furred, with a gaping gash down the very peak of that plumpness, the lips seeming to be peeling apart to expose a clutter of moist, inflamed flesh within. Helen probed with slender fingers the gap that her young son was eyeing with such interest. She had to spread wide and still it was awkward to get her hand around the bulk of her straining abdomen and push questing fingers into her vagina. She could only get to the knuckle before feeling something very hard blocking the way. “Ohh Tommy,” she panted, “I don’t think I can take many more like that. We need to get home and find Daddy.” She stood, a little slowly and unsteadily, dragging her flimsy panties up under the flowing skirt. Together they walked out into the crowded concourse. With every step Helen suppressed a gasp at the urgency of the downward pressure that seemed to be pushing her pelvis apart. She winced as passers-by brushed against her hard, aching belly. She felt the tightness begin to build once more. Her free hand grasped ever more tightly the painful mound; cupping underneath it, trying to lift her baby’s massive, inexorable weight off her pelvic floor. She let out an explosive gasp as the pain returned, building and building beneath her tight, sweat-dampened top. Her knees began to tremble and weaken as the fearsome pressure in her pelvic girdle pushed her thighs apart. She desperately needed to sit, and to spread. They were passing a furniture store, open onto the mall, brightly lit to entice in the passing shoppers and, at the very front of the store, a lounge suite. With a long low moan of pain Helen waddled awkwardly towards the store front and plumped her heavy, swollen body onto a brightly coloured, well upholstered two seater. Beneath her flowing skirt her hugely gravid belly bulged out: full, round and low between her bent, widespread thighs. She was hot, red in the face and panting hard from the shock and her exertions. But the relief she sought from her travail was not to be found. In the process of sitting on the low couch she had buckled her body at the waist and drawn her shapely legs up to either side of her labouring belly. Immediately her tummy went rigid with a searing contraction. She was unable to suppress a high, keening moan as her pelvic bones creaked apart
and the bony head of her babe wedged itself lower and lower in her womanly opening. A crowd began to mill around, drawn by her cries and fascinated by the unexpected show. Helen flushed crimson with mortification as she was forced to lift her concealing skirt and tug desperately at her lacy panties. Before the gathering throng she pulled the flimsy garment down, stretching it with difficulty over the increasing gap between her parted legs, and exposed her hairy vulva. Once she had the panties over her knees and could freely stretch them wide she cried out again and clutched at her hard belly. The pain was surging back and this time she knew she had to push. “HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!! … “ she groaned, “HHHhfffffffff! ... HHHhfffffffff! … HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!!” With that something gave inside and she felt a fountain erupt from her pouting pussy lips. “HHOOooooooowwwww! …” she howled, and gasped for breath. Already the next contraction was upon her. She reached forward and grasped her buckled knees as she recalled doing when she had squeezed Thomas painfully into the world. “ HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!! …” she moaned again. “Ohh Lord!! … It’s coming! … HHHhfffffffff! … HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!!” Now there were gasps from the crowd of shoppers as Helen’s nicely trimmed labia began to side apart and stretch into a gaping oval with the glistening, gooey curve of a small skull appearing in the gap. Her feet were flailing in the air, still tethered at the ankles by her damp lacy scrap of panties. Her face was scarlet and twisted with pain and effort. Her belly stood up hard and clenched with every awful contraction. The baby slid back inside Helen’s straining vagina as her contraction subsided and then thrust mercilessly forward as she screwed up her face and howled with pain and pushed and pushed with the next one. With each driving thrust of her strong, healthy tummy muscles the baby's head bulged further out, pressing her delicate bottom out in a vast, thinly stretched bowl, and widening her vulva to a hard, white-lipped ring. Now her cries were gaining a new element of pain and fear as the stinging agony in her labia warned her of the danger to her sensitive, over stretched womanhood. She knew she mustn’t push too hard, must allow time for her abused tissues to accommodate the terrible diameter of her baby’s cranium. She forced herself to lean forward, to put her feet to the ground. She straightened her back and placed her hands on her lower thighs. She looked tearily around the fascinated crowd witnessing her most intimate moment. Then a last great contraction hit. Her flesh was forced apart and suddenly the babe was sliding, bumping and bruising her tender flesh as it gathered pace and popped free in a further gush of steaming fluid. With a shocked cry she reached her panicked hands down just in time to catch her newly born child as it shot out from her tortured vagina like a cork from a bottle.
Young Tom climbed onto the couch beside his trembling and panting mother. “You did it Mummy! You did it!” he cried, clinging enthusiastically to her neck. “I knew you could!” That’s the best Christmas present ever!”

Recent Pastes

They say if its too[...]

Raw Paste

1. Graduation Present

Hayley was one of the most accomplished girls at her school. She was tall and slim with a ready smile and long auburn hair. As well as being graceful and athletic, captain of the school tennis team and a strong swimmer, she was intelligent and regularly topped her year in English and History. Hayley also got horny just like any other bright and healthy teenage girl, particularly midway between her periods when her young ovaries were readying her monthly egg. Although all the boys had the hots for Hayley, she was firmly in love with her boyfriend Hal. On a saturday night they would drive up to the secluded spot in the hills where all the teenagers went to make out. There, in the car, they would smooch and nibble and tongue and he would stroke her firm, high breasts beneath her top, making her nipples hard and aching and her panties hot and damp. Hayley was a careful, responsible girl and felt very safe because Hal’s car was a sweet little Audi with separate front seats and a console and gear change between them. But one day, at the time of the month when her frustratioon peaked, her clamouring body needed more and, lifting her short skirt she climbed over the console and straddled Hal’s legs. The first month she just enjoyed the rubbing of Hal’s jean-covered bulge on her panty-clad mons. When it happened again the next month she freed his long, hot rod and rubbed her wet panty crotch up and down its length until he shot up under her top. She felt so deliciously bad with his hot, slimy jism splattered all over her narrow tummy. Thus, on the third month when the urges peaked again, she tugged her panties aside and frotted her puffy, sparsely-haired labia directly on his throbbing erection and was rewarded with her first real orgasm: shuddering and squeaking she lost control of her panty gusset, his thrusting rod snagged in the sopping lace and he spat the full load of his swollen balls onto the inside of her silky underwear. As she slumped, stunned and sated, thick rivulets of teeming goo oozed down off her panties into the excited, slightly parted lips of her vulva. The relief of her needs kept her safe from temptation for a time but, sure enough, about a month later they were back at the spot and she was writhing on his naked organ once more.
“Oh God, I love you Hayley,” he moaned, “I want to marry you and give you children.” “Oh Hal,” she gasped, “I want that more than anything and she reached up to hold his darling face while she kissed him and completely forgot about the thick, hard penis she was rubbing against. But the thick, hard penis had a mind of its own and, untended, it soon had its head lodged in the narrow channel where Hayley put her tampons. Her eyes went wide and she cried out. She squirmed and wriggled and bucked and succeeded only in jabbing Hal’s sharp pole all the way through her delicate hymen and down her vagina for the first time. After that she couldn’t clear her head until Hal had filled her tummy with semen. She missed her next period. Both sets of parents were most upset at the news but, after Hal and Hayley had explained how in love they were and that they wanted to marry, they calmed down and it was agreed that after the pair had graduated and the baby had come, they could think about a wedding. The school principal was taken aback but, Hayley’s wasn’t the only teen pregnancy and she was glad to see that Hayley intended to continue with her education; and everyone could see that Hal and Hayley made a good pair. And while Hayley made a somewhat controversial role model, she was so superior in attainments to her peers that she was even chosen to present the address at the graduation ceremony. The ceremony was set for a date exactly 31 weeks after losing her hymen in the car, which counted as 33 weeks since her previous period. She would be nearing eight months pregnant. Hayley didn’t mention to anyone that she couldn’t exactly remember actually having that period. On the day of the ceremony Hayley dressed proudly in her graduation frock. It was a silky green, high waisted under her somewhat fuller breasts with a plunging neckline to take advantage of her cleavage. It was close fitting around her big, swollen tummy and then fell sweeping to her ankles. Hayley had carried small through her pregnancy but, in recent weeks, she had become conscious of a greatly increasing sense of tightness and weight in her belly. When her infant moved she could now see bumps on her taut abdomen as its limbs pressed against her. She remained fit and active. She had played competitive tennis until the middle of her term when her tummy began to press through her skimpy tennis frock and her opponents began to complain that they couldn’t play properly for fear of giving her a miscarriage. Now, in the neighbouring park where she went to have pictures taken in her new dress, her high spirits and the fine weather combined to send her gambolling about like the innocent young teenaged girl she really still was. She was puffing and giggling as they returned to the house, but she was also aware of a surprising pressure that she was suddenly feeling deep within her pelvis. She rubbed her belly thoughtfully over lunch. It was very tight and seemed to be hanging particularly low between her thighs. Her 
muscles felt tense and stressed. “Too much bouncing around,” she thought to herself, “I guess my tummy muscles get tired more easily now.” Hayley had a seat in the front row of the hall. After introductions and a speech from the Principal it was finally her big moment. She levered herself out of the seat and clambered to the stage, aware of all eyes on her. A murmur of comment went around the room. Some of the parents, at any rate, may not have realised quite how very pregnant she was. She forced herself to a careful measured walk, not showing the effort needed to carry her heavily gravid frame and stood at the slender lectern, her thighs parted enough beneath the long green dress to ease the pressure she was feeling. The audience saw a beautiful young girl. Shining auburn hair hung straight to below her shoulders framing a face still slender but a little softer and plumper than before, her limbs still slim and muscular. The bulge of her plump, pert breasts against the bodice of her dress allowed those at the front to detect the outline of her much enlarged maternal nipples, somewhat incongruous on such a fresh-faced youngster, but otherwise only the full, round belly showed the changes about to come in her life. She stood, head held high and proud. Her proud voice rang out through the hall, a picture of brave, confident womanhood. Her hands were at first clasped beneath her great belly then, involuntarily it seemed, strayed upwards, holding the dress close around the ripe, out-thrust globe. A hand either side surreptitiously stroked her gravid womb. Then the measured flow of her speech stumbled slightly. Her brow wrinkled a little. Quickly she picked up the thread but then, a few words later, strain came into her voice, the flow of the speech faltered. Her face began to flush and she tried to continue, taking deep breaths and stuttering over her words. Suddenly she stopped, a stricken expression on her beautiful young face. Silence gripped the hall. She gave a painful gasp. Her hands were now grasping her belly, fingers digging into the taut surface. Those close to the stage could see the great swollen globe seem to flex and push out beneath the green dress. At first drips began to fall between her legs; then little dribbles appeared, flowing down her legs, pooling at her shoes; then a stream of liquid began to patter onto the stage between her parted feet. She moaned and bent forward, clutching at the lectern with one hand while the other curled around her hard, round belly. A great wet stain was spreading rapidly down the front of the silken green dress. “OoohhhWWW!” she suddenly cried, high and frightened, the microphone sending it bouncing harshly around the hall, and fluid was cascading out of her, splattering and splashing onto the stage and spreading out in a big pool around her before the astonished gaze of parents, children and teachers. Hayley gasped and fought for breath, her long silky hair fell forward about a face crimson with shock and embarrassment. She grasped hold of the lectern and stood upright again, sweat glistening on her brow, her lips trembling. Everyone was still too surprised to move. She took a 
deep, shuddering breath and gave a beseeching look to her loved ones, gazing horrified from the audience. “Ooohhh!! ...” she said. “OOOOOOHHHH!!! ...” and she doubled over with a long, heartrending moan, hands clenched in the ruined fabric of her dress, as there, before the assembled throng at the proudest moment of her young life, her uterus tightened to a violent sheet of flame in the first of many hard, searing contractions. By now the Principal had leapt into action and the stricken girl was hustled, sobbing and panting, from the stage. An ambulance was summoned but the modest size of her slightly early baby and the strength of her fit young muscles meant that the dark curly hair of her offspring was already visible between her white, straining thighs by the time the paramedics got there; and so his first son squirted out into Hal’s trembling hands in the crowded confines of the school sick bay. He may have missed most of the ceremony but Hal reckoned that nobody got a better graduation present that day than Hayley and him!

2. All I want for Christmas ...

The cute little blond-haired five-year-old was sitting on Santa’s knee in the grotto in the atrium of the Westvale Mall. As it was Christmas Eve, there was a substantial crowd cramming desperately into the shops and a line of mothers with their children queued to take their turns on the plump knee of the jolly white-bearded man. To one side, by the crimson velvet rope dividing Santa’s grotto from the milling crowds, a woman stood whose fond gaze showed her to be the mother of the blond-haired boy. She looked every inch the successful female executive, her lustrous brown hair pulled severely back from her face and expensive glasses giving her a serious, capable image; the image of masculine efficiency betrayed only by the feminine fertility shown in the full, lush features of her face. But this fertility was revealed even more strongly by her clothes. Above the beautifully-cut, pleated skirt in autumn brown she wore a simple stretch top in charcoal, a colour often favoured to disguise the curves of the pregnant body, but in this case nothing could hide the great, round, protruding abdomen of a woman far gone with child. The top was clearly specifically designed to accommodate the hugely swollen belly of a woman late in her third trimester, but even so it was visibly stretched thin and taut over the young mother’s enormous mound, her navel poking out hard and stretched beneath the straining fabric. She was very obviously close to producing a brother or sister for the young boy on Santa’s knee. Helen sighed softly and shifted her feet. The great size of the babe within her became uncomfortably apparent these days if she stood still for long. After an initial exchange of words young Tom had sat a while in thought. Now he leaned towards Santa’s ear and whispered. Santa gave her a quick look, almost startled she thought, and then bent back to murmur to her little boy. Tom looked so cute perched there that Helen felt a tug at her heartstrings. Her, no doubt, hormonally charged heartstrings. Then she felt a tug somewhere else. A very firm sharp tug. It felt like her baby had planted its feet against the top of her womb and kicked her fiercely. She gave a sharp gasp and clapped a hand to the upper surface of her swollen tummy stroking and soothing the pain there. But even as she did so she felt a cramping pain low down, deeply buried in her pelvis. She felt her face going red as she fought to control her breath. Her hips shifted awkwardly as she sought to relieve the intense cramping pressure. Her hands ran anxiously around the underside of her great belly. She could feel tension in the muscles there. She had been experiencing occasional cramps for a few days now. Her doctor had confirmed that they were nothing to worry about: she continued to hold her baby high in her abdomen. Her due date was a week away and she had planned carefully to finish all that she was working on by today and, once the family Christmas was out of the way (she was entertaining the in-laws this year), she had an appointment already booked at the hospital to be induced which would allow her to return to her desk very early in the new year. Helen allowed herself to pant surreptitiously: “wwhhhhhhh … wwhhhhhhh …” It seemed to help, the discomfort was now ebbing slowly. But that had been a definitely more troublesome incident than her other cramps to date. “I must be overtired,” she thought. “I’ve been overdoing it. That must be it.” She and Tom only needed to chose a present for daddy and then she could get home to a welcome bath. Tom was bouncing off the fat man’s knee and heading happily towards the exit. Taking a deep breath, Helen walked carefully to meet him. Helen was trying hard not to waddle as she walked hand in hand with her son through the mall. She was suddenly feeling quite warm and was conscious of a hot flush spreading over her features. Late pregnancy could do that, she knew. “What do you think Daddy would like for Christmas?” She asked Tom. There was a pause. “He could have the baby too—I wouldn’t mind.” “The baby?” “Yes. I told Santa Claus: all I wanted for Christmas was the new baby. I bet Daddy would like that too.”
“You told Santa what …?” Helen gasped, resting a protective hand involuntarily on her tightly swollen belly. “You can’t have … wwhhh … not for Christmas … wwhhhhh! … Tom! … Oooooohh! …” All thought of chiding Tom forgotten, Helen was biting her lip and clutching her free hand to her uterus which had suddenly gone hard and sore. Her knees trembled and she stumbled a little, then pulled Thomas out of the traffic streaming by so she could sag gratefully against a storefront. “Mummy?” he said, surprised. “It’s nothing, darling ...” she replied. “ … wwhhhhh! … wwhhhhh! … Mummy just got tired ... wwhhhhh! … hhhooooo! … That’s all.” She rubbed at her burning tummy. The sensation was familiar. Only too familiar. “Only I can’t be starting yet,” she told herself, “I just need to sit down somewhere and take the pressure off my belly.” Holding the hand of her young son, the troubled executive waddled slowly towards the toilets located in a side aisle behind the shops. Her knitted top felt suddenly very tight and she longed to flip it up to free her tensely swollen abdomen. Furthermore, with each step she felt an urgent pressure bearing down on her pelvic floor as if her fetus had already started its assault on the maternal cervix. Thomas noted that his mummy seemed suddenly to be having some difficulty walking and her face was becoming quite flushed as if she was involved in something quite vigorous. He had been told that the new baby would come out of his mummy’s tummy and that the reason why he couldn’t watch was that it involved a lot of hard work for mummy. “Is the baby coming already mummy?” he asked hopefully. “What? … no .. Tommy … don’t say things like that!” Helen implored distractedly. “… OoohhHHoooo! … It’s happening again! … Ohh Tommy! …” she gasped. A hard searing pain was spreading across the great curve of her belly and as her hand grasped at the designer top she could feel the muscles of her uterus rippling and hardening. She gripped her son’s hand fiercely. “Quickly,” she hissed, dragging him into the nearest open stall in the women’s toilets. “HHhhhaaaaaaarggghhh!! …” she groaned, doubling over the toilet basin with her arms wrapped around her convulsing tummy. She sank into a squat, her knees spread as far apart as her skirt would allow, anything to ease the terrible pressure she was experiencing, to make more room for the fetal head she could feel beginning to bulldoze its way into the narrow gap in her pelvic bones. “HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! …” she panted urgently, trying to ride through the urgency of the contraction gripping her body like a vice. “ HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … nnnnnggggghhh!! …” Her face contorted and her chin sank down to her chest a she realised she felt a desperate desire to push. “Nnoooooooo!! … “ she moaned, “ HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! … HHhhhhaaaaaahhh! …” She flipped up the expensive charcoal top bearing her taut belly, all hard planes and bulges where it pressed tightly on the limbs of her child. 
“HHoooooooo …” she puffed gratefully, bowing her head. It seemed that her spasm was ending. After several moments of panting recovery, Helen hauled herself up and plumped heavily onto the toilet seat. She pulled up her skirt and, with some difficulty, tugged down the beautifully styled panties she was wearing beneath. This was the first time that Thomas had viewed the full, womanly sex of his mother. Beneath the taut protruding belly her parted thighs displayed a plump mound, thickly furred, with a gaping gash down the very peak of that plumpness, the lips seeming to be peeling apart to expose a clutter of moist, inflamed flesh within. Helen probed with slender fingers the gap that her young son was eyeing with such interest. She had to spread wide and still it was awkward to get her hand around the bulk of her straining abdomen and push questing fingers into her vagina. She could only get to the knuckle before feeling something very hard blocking the way. “Ohh Tommy,” she panted, “I don’t think I can take many more like that. We need to get home and find Daddy.” She stood, a little slowly and unsteadily, dragging her flimsy panties up under the flowing skirt. Together they walked out into the crowded concourse. With every step Helen suppressed a gasp at the urgency of the downward pressure that seemed to be pushing her pelvis apart. She winced as passers-by brushed against her hard, aching belly. She felt the tightness begin to build once more. Her free hand grasped ever more tightly the painful mound; cupping underneath it, trying to lift her baby’s massive, inexorable weight off her pelvic floor. She let out an explosive gasp as the pain returned, building and building beneath her tight, sweat-dampened top. Her knees began to tremble and weaken as the fearsome pressure in her pelvic girdle pushed her thighs apart. She desperately needed to sit, and to spread. They were passing a furniture store, open onto the mall, brightly lit to entice in the passing shoppers and, at the very front of the store, a lounge suite. With a long low moan of pain Helen waddled awkwardly towards the store front and plumped her heavy, swollen body onto a brightly coloured, well upholstered two seater. Beneath her flowing skirt her hugely gravid belly bulged out: full, round and low between her bent, widespread thighs. She was hot, red in the face and panting hard from the shock and her exertions. But the relief she sought from her travail was not to be found. In the process of sitting on the low couch she had buckled her body at the waist and drawn her shapely legs up to either side of her labouring belly. Immediately her tummy went rigid with a searing contraction. She was unable to suppress a high, keening moan as her pelvic bones creaked apart 
and the bony head of her babe wedged itself lower and lower in her womanly opening. A crowd began to mill around, drawn by her cries and fascinated by the unexpected show. Helen flushed crimson with mortification as she was forced to lift her concealing skirt and tug desperately at her lacy panties. Before the gathering throng she pulled the flimsy garment down, stretching it with difficulty over the increasing gap between her parted legs, and exposed her hairy vulva. Once she had the panties over her knees and could freely stretch them wide she cried out again and clutched at her hard belly. The pain was surging back and this time she knew she had to push. “HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!! … “ she groaned, “HHHhfffffffff! ... HHHhfffffffff! … HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!!” With that something gave inside and she felt a fountain erupt from her pouting pussy lips. “HHOOooooooowwwww! …” she howled, and gasped for breath. Already the next contraction was upon her. She reached forward and grasped her buckled knees as she recalled doing when she had squeezed Thomas painfully into the world. “ HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!! …” she moaned again. “Ohh Lord!! … It’s coming! … HHHhfffffffff! … HHHHHHNNNNGGhhhhhhhh!!” Now there were gasps from the crowd of shoppers as Helen’s nicely trimmed labia began to side apart and stretch into a gaping oval with the glistening, gooey curve of a small skull appearing in the gap. Her feet were flailing in the air, still tethered at the ankles by her damp lacy scrap of panties. Her face was scarlet and twisted with pain and effort. Her belly stood up hard and clenched with every awful contraction. The baby slid back inside Helen’s straining vagina as her contraction subsided and then thrust mercilessly forward as she screwed up her face and howled with pain and pushed and pushed with the next one. With each driving thrust of her strong, healthy tummy muscles the baby's head bulged further out, pressing her delicate bottom out in a vast, thinly stretched bowl, and widening her vulva to a hard, white-lipped ring. Now her cries were gaining a new element of pain and fear as the stinging agony in her labia warned her of the danger to her sensitive, over stretched womanhood. She knew she mustn’t push too hard, must allow time for her abused tissues to accommodate the terrible diameter of her baby’s cranium. She forced herself to lean forward, to put her feet to the ground. She straightened her back and placed her hands on her lower thighs. She looked tearily around the fascinated crowd witnessing her most intimate moment. Then a last great contraction hit. Her flesh was forced apart and suddenly the babe was sliding, bumping and bruising her tender flesh as it gathered pace and popped free in a further gush of steaming fluid. With a shocked cry she reached her panicked hands down just in time to catch her newly born child as it shot out from her tortured vagina like a cork from a bottle.
Young Tom climbed onto the couch beside his trembling and panting mother. “You did it Mummy! You did it!” he cried, clinging enthusiastically to her neck. “I knew you could!” That’s the best Christmas present ever!”