Sarah Wilton pulled her car into the staff carpark, stopped and clambered awkwardly out, huffing with effort as she levered herself to her feet. From the window of the staff room Senior Dean Charlotte Holmes watched as the young second year teacher walked carefully across the asphalt, casting her eye expertly over Sarah’s body, the body of a woman heavily swollen with child. Although Sarah had always been rather vague concerning her due date, Charlotte realised that she would soon need to arrange a relief teacher, so clear to a woman’s eyes were the signs that Sarah’s delivery could not be far from commencing. Charlotte remembered the awkwardness of Sarah’s early pregnancy. She was known not to be in a steady relationship, and indeed it was rumoured that one of Sarah’s students last year had worked his way into her panties and left her in her present situation. Charlotte was not at all surprised. Few female teachers were immune to the blandishments of eager over sexed teenaged dick; her own second child had probably not been planted in her by her husband. A husband or long term partner was a vital protection for a woman teacher and, lacking such protection and apparently unwilling to procure an abortion, Sarah had taken the usual resort of trying to hide her embarrassing condition as long as possible. Vainly, of course, because any experienced mother can quickly spot the significance of a young woman’s blouses becoming tight over suddenly fuller breasts, those blouses being left free at the waist to disguise a swelling tummy. Before long new, larger clothes are needed of shapeless design to avoid highlighting the specific areas of plumpness, but eventually even these cannot hide the high, round protrusion of a woman’s abdomen in her later months of pregnancy and she must proclaim her condition to the world in specifically tailored maternity wear. In this last, very obvious phase of her pregnancy Sarah had worn long skirts with soft stretch panels at the front to accommodate her burgeoning uterus, and loose frilly tops to float and take the eye from her embarrassing shape. But now, over the last week, she had resorted to the only items of maternity wear that could still contain her massively gravid form: long dresses cut on the bias so that they clung to the curve of her swollen breasts and stretched tautly over the greatness of her hugely prominent tummy before falling gracefully to her ankles. Over these she wore knitted jackets, open except for a loose tie above the belly, to help soften the extremity of her state. Her bodices were now tight enough to show a faint outline of her thickened, prominent nipples, even through the

tightly filled cups of her brassieres, and she was glad to conceal these within her jackets, but nothing could cover the stiff stalk of her pushed out navel where it thrust boldly against the fabric of her dress in the prominent centre of her distended abdomen. As Sarah passed beneath the staff room window she was walking particularly carefully because she had awoken that morning with a noticeably greater sense of pressure deep in her pelvis, and she knew that that meant her baby had dropped, pushing itself into the position at the narrow gap in her pelvic bones through which it would be born. For the last fortnight she had been experiencing periodic cramps which she knew to be the precursors to labour. But she also knew that, for a first pregnancy, such pangs could continue for many weeks prior to birth, and she still believed she would see out the remaining two weeks of term before being brought to birth of her child. Now, out of sight of inquisitive eyes, she felt an urgency, a tightening in her lower belly and she gasped, instinctively pressing a hand to the deep curve of her abdomen, seeking to soothe and relax the tense, straining sheet of muscle supporting her child. It was a sharp cramping ache, somewhat like the period pain she had suffered as a teenager, but growing and gripping the stretched muscles of her vastly expanded uterus causing her to breath harder and put both hands to her tummy, working them over and over the taut surface until, with a sigh of relief, she felt the pain ebb and her cruelly strained muscles soften. As she resumed her stride, somewhere deep inside she realised that she had not, before, experienced anything quite so much like what many would call a contraction. Sarah was well accustomed to the reaction caused by her entry into each class: the delicious irony of addressing by ‘Miss Wilton’ a woman so obviously on the brink of becoming an unwed mother; the excited buzz of the students sharing notes as day by day they watched her belly swell harder and harder against her clothing, the stiff knot of her popped out navel pressing ever more blatantly out under the taut fabric.  Her senior class were the worst and late in the day, as she walked awkwardly in to commence their lesson she felt all eyes instantly devouring her body. The boys were trying to hide the sudden stiffness of their unruly pricks at the sight of their hot young teacher, the tie of her jacket drawing it over her full, firm breasts while leaving it to part invitingly around the almost impossibly swollen curve of her fertile belly; the girls meanwhile were scandalised at their slutty teacher continuing to brazenly advertise her failure to keep her legs together around her students.

“What a whore,” they giggled, “Wonder what she’s doing for it now, she’s probably been too big to take on this year’s boys!”  “Christ, how long is she going to keep this up,” hissed one girl. “Is she waiting until she goes into labour at the blackboard?” “The way she waddled in here it could be today,” murmured a petite brunette breathlessly. “Yeah,” gasped another. “You’d better not get her worked up or she might break her bag of waters on the spot!” In truth Sarah was feeling very weary after a long day. She had suffered two more of the cramping pains, although neither as tight and urgent as the one she had experienced on her way in from the car park that morning. Nevertheless, the repeated pressure was taking its toll of her heavily laden tummy. She had carried her burden easily on the whole, but over the past week as her baby reached its full size she was finding his weight harder and more tiring to support on her pelvis. Now she had a dull ache stretching in a ring round from her back across the lower curve of her belly and it was a constant struggle to keep her hands from their automatic desire to cup her straining uterus and soothe her tired muscles. Because of the great size to which her child had grown, there was also less and less room for her bladder and it was becoming hard to last even a full period without needing to pee. As there was even less room inside when she was seated, Sarah felt it prudent to stand throughout the lesson. Rob Hamilton was unable to pay attention to the lesson, although it had nothing to do with a fine hot afternoon outside and the approaching end of the school day. Instead his mind was very focused on Miss Wilton. Not on what she was saying but the way she moved, heavily and awkwardly, her back curved and braced to support the weight of her enormous belly, her hips sometimes shifting uncomfortably as she fought to rebalance her straining load. He also was squirming awkwardly, trying to hide the iron hard erection in his pants. Miss Wilton’s hands seemed to hover ineffectually at times around her huge, ripe swelling and Rob felt that he would come in his pants if she were to grasp and stroke that glorious, full orb. Once he thought he detected a movement, a ripple in her tight stretched tummy. She was in full flow but seemed to hesitate, her eyes losing focus, a sudden intake and holding of her breath, a slight flushing of her lovely face. He thought that he was not the only one who noticed as the room became quite still.

Sarah exhaled deliberately and carried on, but a little distractedly. She was acutely aware of the intense gaze of her students as she fought to ignore the cramp building in her tummy after the particularly vigorous wriggle of the babe inside her. She leant back against the desk behind her, gripping it with both hands to steady herself. This pain was very definitely seated deep in her uterus and she arched her back a little trying to lift her rib cage to relieve the pressure growing in her pelvis. She sought to move attention away from herself by firing out some questions. “Stephanie…” “Good, David…” Her tummy was tight and painful but she was coping as she had coped before. “Anyone else, Angela…” “Do we all agree with Angela? Rob… Rob!”  What was wrong with the boy, he was staring stupidly at her and with a sense of panic she realised that she couldn’t stop to deal with him now, not with her mind distracted by the stress in her belly and her body unable to move. “Not paying attention again,” she snapped. “Stay behind after class!” Rob was still in a daze. The attitude his beautiful teacher had assumed, propped up against the desk behind her, seemed to thrust her tummy out even further and it stood, round and proud, like an overripe fruit after the rains when it is swollen with water and about to burst its skin. His cock was throbbing and his balls were twitching as he had a sudden vision of Miss Wilton going into labour right there in front of him, pulling up her skirt and spreading her thighs and beginning to push that massive baby out of her. Sarah breathed deeply and evenly, willing her tense uterus to relax, and sagged with relief as she felt the pain slowly subside. By the end of class Sarah was regretting her hasty words to Rob as she had a real need to relieve her bladder. After her class had filed out, calling out, “Rob, wait there a moment, I’ll be back shortly.” she waddled hastily out to the nearby toilet, clenching her pelvic floor muscles sternly to avoid an unwanted spurt into her panties. In the toilets she found two of the senior girls tidying their hair and applying makeup that they weren’t allowed to wear in school. Obviously off to meet some boys thought Sarah but she hadn’t the time to challenge them. Pushing her ungainly bulk past them she made purposefully to a cubicle.

“Oh, Miss Wilton, sorry!” said one of the girls in mock surprise as she brushed past and both broke into giggles. It was fair to say that the cubicles in the girls’ toilets had not been designed with a late third trimester pregnant woman in mind and once the door was closed it was a tricky exercise for Sarah, the pee pressure all the while probing her tired muscles, to draw her skirt up over her protruding belly to reach the high waistband of her soft, capacious maternity panties, and then roll these down over the same great curve so that she could finally sit. At once the pressure hissed out of her as she sighed with relief and stroked her bared, taut tummy. Sitting for the first time for some hours with her soft thighs spread to accommodate the wide, low hanging bulk of her enormous uterus, she felt a sudden urge to also empty her bowel. Like her bladder, her bowel was greatly disrupted in its function by the sheer size of the baby inside her, but unlike her bladder that did not manifest as a constant need to be emptied but the reverse, a difficulty in finding room to push her poop out. She was therefore glad for a chance to relieve some of her constipation and concentrated on her feelings, opening up her bottom muscles to allow the log she could sense to slide free. For a while nothing happened and Sarah, conscious of Rob waiting for her in the classroom, increased her efforts, leaning forward a little to further open up her bottom and pushing, a little at first and then more and harder to get her blocked up bowel moving. “Nnnggggg,” she groaned softly, rocking to and fro, “HHnnnggggg!” She felt a little bit of give. “HHnnnggggg!” she groaned and took a deep breath, bearing down hard. “HHhhhnnnggggGGG!” Oh yes! It was definitely coming now, a good solid log stretching out her anus nicely. Then she felt it: as she pushed again, a sudden increase in intensity as all her abdominal muscles took up the pressure in chorus. In mid thrust there was nothing Sarah could do to stop it. “HHnnnggggg… Aaargggghhh! HHooooo! HHooooo… Ohh no! No! HHhhhnnnggggGGG!” she wailed, a searing, red hot pain burning right round her vast belly, gripping her child and ramming his head cruelly down into her pelvic girdle, at the temporarily relaxed defences there. Sarah was made shocked and gasping by the unexpected assault. She felt the great, powerful weight which was her babe move distinctly down and fierce pain shoot through her abdomen and pelvis. As the log fell from her anus into the toilet the panicking young teacher was already grabbing her heaving uterus in both hands, clamping her legs together and squeezing her pelvic floor muscles with all her might: anything to stop the terrible, unlooked for, descent of her unborn child. She tried to clear her mind for her childbirth training. Puff, she told herself, to relieve the pressure. “Hhhhhuuufffff… Hhhhhuuufffff… Hhhhhuuufffff,” she panted in distress. What’s happening to me, she thought wildly. Oh please God don’t let the baby be coming now.  “Hhhhhuuufffff… Hhhhhuuufffff… Hhhhhuuufffff!” Then the pain and the tension began to ease as the others had and Sarah gave a little sob of relief. She was puffing more normally now, sucking in air after her frightening ordeal, her face hot and clammy from her efforts to fight the contraction she had undergone. After a moment, with trembling hands, she hauled up the panties flopping around her ankles and stood to once again drew the soft stretch fabric up to tightly cup her sore belly. Her dress she stroked down over the still aching uterine muscles. She put a hand up briefly to the wall to support herself, took a deep breath and tottered out of the cubicle. Fortunately no one remained in the toilets who could have heard her distress, she couldn’t have borne that! She washed her hands and splashed water on her face to calm her agitation and tried to think. Sarah was in no doubt that she had endured her first hard, full labour pain. But might it be that she had brought that on herself by her weariness and the impatient pushing to free her congested bowel? She decided she should urgently consult her midwife, but her phone was in her bag in the staff room. She therefore poked her head back into the classroom where Rob Hamilton was still sitting obediently. “Rob, you have homework to be getting on with,” she said, a little more sharply than she had intended. “I’ll be back in a moment.”  And with that she waddled off as quickly as her shaky legs would carry her gravid burden. “…I’m not able to take a call right now, please leave a message after the tone and I’ll get right back to you,” the tinny voice chirped cheerfully. Fuck, thought Sarah. “Urr… Irene, it’s Sarah, Sarah Wilton. I just had a pretty big contraction… Umm, I think my waters are OK but I’m feeling a lot of, I guess, pressure… Aaah… if I don't hear from you soon I guess I’d

better get down to the birthing centre and get looked at… please call me.” Best I can do, she thought, taking deep, measured breaths and cautiously stroking and probing her massive, taut belly with her right hand as she plodded awkwardly back to the classroom. Rob had already noticed a change in his teacher when she poked her head back into the classroom. In the space of minutes she seemed suddenly indefinably heavier and closer to the birthing of her child. Her face seemed somehow troubled and, as she walked back into the room, her bag in her left hand, the right clasped to the under curve of her great belly, he could see that she was moving with a difficult, more rolling gait in which her gravid burden swayed awkwardly from side to side. With a sigh of effort she perched on the edge of the desk next to Rob. “Rob Hamilton, what are we going to do with you?” she began. “You certainly have the ability to do well but lately you seem unable to pay attention. What is it that you dream about all day?” Rob did not know what he could say to that (I can’t tale my eyes off your full, thrusting breasts and fertile, sexy tummy Miss). “Urr, I don’t know Miss.” “But that’s not good enough Rob!” she exclaimed, grasping her enormous, straining abdomen with both hands and rubbing them over and around the great curved surface. (Oh god it makes my dick so hard to watch that!) “You have to pull yourself together, Rob, and concentrate!” (I have to pull something!) “Yes Miss.” She was smiling encouragingly at him, but then a note of trouble came into her eyes and she gave a little gasp. From where Rob was sitting her impossibly vast tummy stretched out above him, her stance having drawn her knitted jacket away from the great swollen sphere. Suddenly Rob saw, beneath the hands clasped to the massive bulk, a movement, a flexing of her huge abdominal ball. She squirmed a little and gave a low groan. Rob looked up and saw her biting her lip with anxiety. “Are you all right, Miss…” he said, hesitantly. “I… Ohh, Hoohh… yes… give me a moment… Aaaa, Haahh… it will go away…” she gasped, tightly. He watched as she bent her head and focused on the hands stroking the tense bulge of her belly, then threw her head and hands back and began panting rhythmically:

“Ahhoooooh… Hahhoooooh… Hahhooooohh!” Rob noticed that her legs seemed tense and her knees had slipped apart to the extent allowed by her skirt. Although anxious at this strange turn of events, Rob was incredibly aroused by the sight of his beautiful teacher in thrall to the intense feelings arising from her tightly packed uterus, and he therefore did what all hormone charged boys do: he reached out and touched. Sarah knew at once that this was another contraction, and so soon after the last! But although she felt deep, painful pressure, there was not the sense of uncontrolled descent that she had felt earlier and she soon gained control, her breathing exercises riding her firmly over the hot burning cramps gripping her poor, overstretched abdomen. Then her astonished student reached out and tenderly stroked her straining tummy! Sarah went scarlet with embarrassment and clutched at his exploring hand, but then a wave of gratitude for his sympathy overcame her and she clasped his hand to her curved abdominal wall and let him feel the subsiding ripples of her unclenching muscles. “Ohh Rob, it’s OK,” she sighed, “It’s just one of those things you get at the end of pregnancy.” (The end of pregnancy!) “Not the very end… necessarily, you understand,” she added cautiously. “But it’s not much fun!” Is there anything I can do to help Miss?” Rob asked anxiously. “Umm…” Sarah thought, and suddenly the notion of such a moment overcoming her while driving seemed quite scary. “What are you like driving?” “OK, I guess. I got my license last year.” “You couldn’t drive me home then, only I don’t feel quite up to it at the moment.” “Sure. Be happy to.” Karen Harding had been hanging about in the carpark since the class was let out. She was waiting for Rob, although Rob didn’t know it, somehow thinking that all the times she just happened to be there to walk home with him were pure coincidence.  Karen had the hots for Rob. They had been out together a few times with friends and she had got as far as a good smoochy kiss or two and she got hot and itchy between her legs at the thought of really making out like some of her friends did. Of course, with the example of Miss Wilton before them all, she carried a packet of condoms in her bag.

At last the door opened and out came Rob, holding the door open like an idiot as Miss Wilton slowly waddled out after him. Holy cow that bitch is looking ready to pop, thought Karen maliciously. And what’s she doing hanging round Rob like that. Can’t she keep her hands off the boys even when she’s just about giving birth! “Hi Rob!” “Oh. Hi Karen.” (Well, sound glad to see me, you bastard.) “You walking home?” “Well actually, I… “ “Rob’s kindly offered to drive me home. I’m a little tired.” (Bet you are bitch: chasing cock in your condition!) “But you’re welcome to a lift if you live out west.” (Well, I sure am not leaving Rob alone with you!) “That would be sooo cool! Thank you Miss Wilton.” No one said much on the short drive to the young teacher’s house. Sarah had a constant, grinding ache low in her bones by now and if it was more of a drama than she felt comfortable with getting into the car, it was an embarrassing huffing, panting and groaning effort to haul herself out. “Miss Wilton,” said Karen sternly after Sarah finally found her feet. “Are you sure you’re all right? I mean you shouldn’t be at the hospital or anything?” She saw a quick, furtive glance between Rob and the teacher. (Now what the hell did that mean?) “I might need to pop down later to check things out, but that’s fine. Thanks for the lift Rob. I guess I should have wondered how you get home from here?” “That’s OK Miss. I’m just a little way over that way. I can walk.” “And Karen?” (If he can walk I certainly can!) “Me too, really. Rob and I can walk together.” Sarah paused to think. “Say what: what have you two got on at the moment.” “Nothing I guess.” (Speak for yourself, but I guess you are, arsehole). “Well then. I guess I really should get over to the birth centre,” Sarah said as casually as she could. “So why don’t you wait while I change and then drive me round, then you can drive Karen home and we’ll see about the car.”

Rob went very still as he took that in. It sounded very much as if Miss Wilton as going to the centre to stay, which meant to deliver her baby, which meant that earlier .... “Urr, definitely,” he said. “We’ll just wait for you out here…” “Don’t be silly. Come on inside. There are drinks in the fridge and help yourselves to any food you can find.” She wasn’t really admitting it to herself quite yet. She had heard that plenty of labours started and stopped and dragged on for weeks. But somewhere deep down she had started to believe that maybe her ordeal had already started for real and she truly would not be coming back from the birth centre until she had pushed her child into the world. Rob and Karen got drinks from the fridge and went into the lounge where they sat awkwardly at opposite sides of the large coffee table, immersed in their own thoughts. There was desultory conversation about how their respective days had been. In the background they heard the sound of a shower running. Then suddenly they heard a muffled cry. Both teens froze and looked at each other. The shower continued its steady reassuring hiss. Then what sounded like an urgent moan. Rob went pale remembering the pain which had suddenly gripped the teacher earlier in the afternoon. (God, I hope she’s all right. Maybe I should go and see if she’s in trouble. Yeah right! Burst in on her in the shower!) And his face went red at the vision of his teacher’s hugely gravid body naked in the shower with hot water streaming from her swollen curves. Karen noted Rob’s absorption. (Bitch! She’s probably got so hot thinking about Rob she’s having an orgasm in the shower!) The hissing of the shower again covered all other noise and the pair went uneasily back to their conversation. Sarah Wilton had awkwardly shed her clothing waddled her ungainly body into the shower. At first the firm hot needles of water seemed to soothe and ease the aching tightness of her straining belly and she relaxed, curving her back to lift her tense, weighty breasts to the pleasant stimulation. Then she felt again the pressure, the awful pressure, building swiftly in her pelvic girdle and she gasped, readying herself to ride the cramping urgency as she had before. Suddenly she cried out in shock and alarm, a fiery band of pain gripping her as if someone had clamped a strip of red-hot iron around the whole wide sphere of her contracting abdomen. “Haaaahhhooohhh!” she wailed, her face screwed up against the pain. She lurched forward, her legs turned all at once to jelly,

her knees buckling out in instinctive reaction to the downward pressure between her thighs. She reached up with both hands to grasp the rail holding the shower head and hung there desperately, her soft but muscular legs gaping apart, her huge tummy on fire with a pain more shocking than she could have imagined. For long minutes she endured the searing pain in her uterus and a new torment: a grinding agony in her pelvis as her clenching muscles began to drive her baby’s big head into the narrow circle of bone between her legs. She clamped her teeth against the urge to cry out, not wishing to frighten the teenagers in the next room and instead twisted and groaned, becoming hot and flushed with the efforts of her body. “Ohhhhh God!” she prayed,  “Please don’t let drop my child like this, alone on the shower!” Then, gradually, the agony wore off leaving her drained and shaking. She staggered awkwardly to the toilet and slumped onto the seat, her thighs wide apart in a vain effort to ease the awful pressure between them. There was no hiding the fact that she was now well advanced in her labour. She knew that the first phase of childbirth consisted of her uterus contracting so as to drag her cervix back over the head of her fetus and to jam its bony head into her pelvic girdle, and she feared that the overwhelming pressure she now felt meant that that phase might already be passed. She counted back and realised that she had experienced serious pains three times in the last half hour. With rising panic she realised that she must get to the birthing centre before her condition became any more desperate. Still aching and shaken she hurriedly dried and dressed her swollen body. She tugged loose soft maternity panties up her legs, wincing as she had to close her knees sufficiently to get the panties over them, then a big bellied, front fastening maternity smock which, for all its voluminous size, tugged awkwardly over the low slung hugeness of her abdomen, buttoning the top over her plump, thick nippled breasts, unbrassiered out of an inability to endure anything tight about her labouring body. The teens gaped as the door opened and Miss Wilton waddled with obvious difficulty into the room. Her face was drawn and pale apart from blotches of colour as if from great exertion; one hand clutched and rubbed at her massive abdomen; her dress clung damply to her clearly displaying her extremely gravid body.  Rob’s heart began to thump furiously. (My God, what’s happening to her? Christ, look at those tits!!)

Karen felt her anger building up (No fucking bra! She’s soooo got to show off those boobs! The silly cow is probably going to drop the sprog in front of us. Gross!) “Miss Wilton,” she said, honey dripping off her tongue. “Don’t you think it would be a good idea to get to a hospital some time soon!” Sarah Wilton looked at Rob in appeal.  “I need… I… OOOOoooooohhhhh!!!” and with that she bit her lip urgently, lurched quickly to the table where the teens sat and leaned with both palms on it, legs planted apart. “HHHooooooohhhh! HHHHHHuufffff! HHHooooooohhhh! HHHooooooohhhh! HHHHHHuufffff!!” she panted, her eyes glazed and her face going red. Sarah was in panic: so soon after the last! She was desperate not to disgrace herself in front of her students but, OOOOHH!! the pain and the pressure holding her in its vice-like grip. She could focus on nothing other than the need to ride with the pain, to work her baby down through her pelvic bones and out of her vagina. (And what if it’s too big, a little voice murmured in her head!) Her breathing was becoming ragged now: “HHHuuffff! HHHuuffff! OOOOhhhhhhhhh!! HHHuufff! HHHuufff! UUnnnggghhhhhh!” she groaned as the pain began to overcome her. She bent over, face and elbows down to the table, hunching over her hard clenched belly. Rob immediately sprang to her side, grasping her around her swollen middle for support. He could clearly feel the strong rippling contractions tearing through her hardened belly and he gasped at the thought of what his lovely teacher must be going through. Karen just sat and stared. “Uuhh, Miss Wilton… should I call for an ambulance maybe, do you think?” Sarah was twisting her hips awkwardly trying desperately to ease the crushing pain in her bones. “Hhnngg! Hhnngg!” was all she could manage, jerking her head. She felt Rob’s arm on her convulsing tummy (dear God, he shouldn’t have to see this!!) and she fought to stand straight, to fight down the torment in her abdomen, to regain a measure of control. Karen had her cell phone out. “Ahh, ambulance… Yeah there’s a woman having pains… Yeah labour pains — she’s pregnant… Ummm, pretty far I guess… I don’t know how often but they look like pretty hard ones!” “Ambulance coming,” she said cheerfully.

Sarah Wilton panted hard as her muscles gave her merciful respite. She feared and dreaded what their next contraction would bring and she knew she would need medication for the unbearable stretching and ripping open of her pelvis and of her still petite vagina and vulva when the fetus began to truly descend. “How long?” she gasped, wondering whether she would achieve faster treatment by somehow getting to the birth centre now. Karen looked blank and shrugged. Sarah gave a sob of frustration. What to do? Already she could feel the tension building in her uterus again. The contractions were coming so fast now!  She looked pleadingly at Rob: “Rob, can’t we…” but she couldn’t finish the sentence. To the horror of her concerned young student she gave a low, awful, guttural groan from deep inside and collapsed to the floor, her knees widespread, her hands gripped tight to her huge belly now pushed low between her thighs, her face contorted in agony. Sarah could feel her baby wedged hard into the gate of her pelvis her straining muscles driving its bony cranium viciously into her gap. The agony was terrible and, although she knew she must not allow her labour to develop further before she could get medical help, all she could think of was the need to stretch her bottom open as far as possible and pass the great bulk of her child through her unyielding bones. “My god she’s starting to do it!” cried Karen, suddenly panic stricken at the sight of the labouring teacher in the open legged squat she had heard to be much favoured by women in the last stages of squeezing out their babies. “Please Miss Wilton, stop! The ambulance will be here soon, I promise! Rob, she’s got to get her legs together! She can’t do it here!!” Dimly poor Sarah’s brain echoed the sentiments of the frightened teen. She was deeply humiliated by the spectacle she was making before the young innocent students. (Dear god, they could scarred for life being forced to witness their respected teacher in such terrible travail) But of their own volition her knees strained wider in response to the agonising pressure and beneath her hands the powerful sheet of her abdominal muscles rippled and clenched making her tummy hard as a rock and forcing (yes she could start to feel it!) a slow fiery painful descent of her fetus through her creaking bones. All possibility of controlled breathing was gone now. She absolutely would not panic the teens further by

giving voice to the cries and wails that rose in her throat, instead she groaned and gasped and sobbed and prayed for the relief that had followed all her other contractions. Rob was beside himself at the awful suffering of his beloved teacher. He had never imagined that the agony of childbirth could be so extreme, that her calm controlled beauty could be so shattered that she would be crouched moaning on the floor in front of him and he wanted more than anything to be able to help her in her terrible need. He knelt beside her and began to stroke and massage her back; a brief grateful glance suggested that she found it helpful. He heard Karen’s cry and knew she was right. What if Miss Wilton were to go all the way and deliver with just him and Karen present? What would they do? The pain wracking his teacher seemed to ebb somewhat and he asked her diffidently if she could get up. “Yes,” she gasped. “I think so.”  But Rob was shocked to see desperate she looked, her lovely eyes wide an glazed with shock and fear, her face blotchy and sweat streaked, her lips tight but mouth gaping as she sucked for air. He tried to support her as she struggled awkwardly up, her mouth working, groaning with pain. His hands were at last where he had often dreamed them to be, clasped to her full, loose, heavy breasts, but he barely registered the feel of her fully developed maternal nipples pressing through her dress into his palms. As she teetered into a standing position Sarah realised with horror that the pain in her pelvis had not, and was not now going to fully recede. Her heart thumped fearfully and she knew that her final crisis was upon her. (Pray that the ambulance gets here in time!) Supported by Rob, Sarah waddled carefully and shakily through her house in the birthing woman’s instinctive search for a place to settle for the final bringing forth of her child. At each step she felt the head of her babe grind more deeply into her pelvis like a rocky boulder forcing her bones apart and stretching to breaking point the tendons binding her hips together. Her knees, despite all her efforts, drifted further and further apart until, as the next fierce contraction swept over her, she tumbled against Rob, her legs no longer able to support her. As he held her upright as best he could she buried her face in his shoulder and gave a great wailing moan. As she clung for a moment to Rob, her legs loose and gaping open, he tightened his arms about her pulling her already rigid, convulsing tummy harder against him. All at once she felt a dam burst deep within. Warm water gushed out of her, splashing down

her legs and onto the floor, and with a painful, wrenching crack which felt as if her hips had dislocated, she felt her fetus drop heavily towards her entrance. The anguished teacher was mortified at the mess pooling at her feet, but that was nothing against the urgency now pressing at her. She tried to stifle her cries of pain. “Karen… HHhhhhoooohh! OOoohhhwwww!” she panted between gasping moans, “…Towels… OOoohhhwwww! Uuuunnnggghh!!”  As the white faced girl disappeared with alacrity Sarah bit her lip and began to remove her sodden dress with trembling fingers. Rob had also been soaked by the sudden breaking of his teacher’s waters but he had thoughts only for the brave, struggling woman in his arms. Suddenly, to his astonishment, her hands began to feverishly grapple and tear at the buttoned bodice of her maternity dress. Teetering free of his arms with hard, harsh pants, she pulled her top open revealing rich, plump, creamy cleavage suffused with heavy blue veins. She then tugged up her skirt and vainly hoisted it up her swollen body. “OOoohhhwwww! Uuuunnnggghh! Rob!!” she groaned, “OOoohhhwwww! …help meeeee!!” The astonished boy needed a moment to take it all in but then quickly grasped the hem of his teacher’s dress and tugged it over her head. He now had his teacher’s body displayed to his amazed eyes in all its gravid glory. The swollen and heavy, but still high breasts thrust beautifully out, their thick, long, dark brown nipples standing up from broad dark areolas whose deep colour seemed almost to leach raggedly into the lush translucency of the surrounding tissue of her breasts. Below her full maternity panties cupped her hard round and now very low belly. Gasping with the effort Sarah Wilton staggered wide-legged into her bedroom. There was a desk at which she did her evening work and big, comfortable swiveling chair to which she made lurching progress, clutching at her tortured belly. Cries were rising unstoppably to her lips now because, with the passing of her child’s head through her pelvic girdle, it now pushed its massive circumference directly into her sensitive vagina, which had never before held anything thicker than the male member which had brought her to this state, and the only thing which was holding the weight of the full grown baby from thrusting brutally out of her body and falling to the floor was the tightness of her vulva.

Karen had appeared with towels. (Shit! What is the silly slut doing practically naked?) Sarah grasped the top hem of her wet panties and tried to peel them down. “NNnnnnooooo!” she howled, the pain rising to another, more terrible peak. “Hhhhnnnngggg! …hhhnnnngggg! …hhhnnnngggg!” She was openly pushing now at the huge body invading her delicate female membranes. “Rob… panties!! ….hhhnnnngggg! …hhhnnnngggg! …help!! HHHHnnnngggghhh!!”  (Yeah right! Ask the guy to take your panties off Whore!) Sarah slumped her convulsing body onto the towels Karen had placed on the chair. Rob grasped the soft material of her underwear where she had rolled it off her tummy, tugged it off the full womanly globes of her bottom. Sarah screamed in agony as she held her knees together just long enough to slide the garment past that point and then, sobbing with relief and need, she jacknifed her knees up and out as wide and wide as she possibly could, bringing them up beside the round ball of her abdomen, her bare feet waving in the air, and pushed with every ounce of strength she could muster at the big sturdy body of her fetus. “Hhhoowwwwww!! Hhhffff! Hhhffff! Hhhoooowwwww!!” she wailed, her hands clenching on her soft upraised thighs tugging them as high and wide apart as she was able. Rob and Karen gasped with shock as the broad gap between their teacher’s legs was displayed wide and lewdly before them, thickly forested with fine rich auburn locks except for the wet pink gash (more like a canyon! thought Karen) splaying open at the centre of her being. With her screams of effort that hairy expanse pushed roughly out into a great tight bulge and the gash widened abruptly into a definite oval. Their reactions to this astonishing sight could not have been more different. Rob thought he had never seen anything more beautiful and stirring than the swollen heavy nippled breasts of his teacher framing the tense globe of her tummy and the stretching of her lovely womanly vulva as she began to push her child into the world. Karen was clamping her knees together as hard as she could as she stared with horrible fascination at the awful impossibility of any woman, even a well used slut like that, opening her tiny organ of love sufficiently to pass a full grown baby without suffering terminal damage. Sarah was beyond caring about the unthinkable shame of stretching her twat open before the young students, her body was in control and, although her back ached for lack of support, it was nothing to the savage pain of her poor overstretched vagina, and

she could have no focus now other than bringing her torment to an end by the birthing of her babe. Once, twice, three times she sucked her breath in and pushed until she was red in the face with exertion. Sweat sprang up from her pores and ran in rivers down her hot heaving body; and slowly, agonisingly, the great bony head of her babe drove down her maidenly vagina, stretching it beyond any conceivable limit, beyond any possibility of full recovery. The teens could now see a dark wet bony plate pushing out of their teacher’s bottom, bulging out her furry membranes until they were thin and stressed, tugging the lips of her gash into a taut, thin circle like a bow string drawn to breaking point, then dropping back inside as she exhaled explosively, relaxing her effort. Sarah was starting to feel panic. Although fairly fit, the extreme efforts of the last half hour and the awful torture of her delicate womanhood were rapidly sapping her stamina and yet her opening still held! She recalled the need for doctors to slit open the bottoms of women in the final stages of childbirth, particularly in first births, to make room for their baby’s heads, and she wondered what would become of her if she tore open here, with only two anxious teenagers to help. “Karen… ambulance?” she managed to gasp between contractions. The young girl was eager for anything to distract her from the terrible sight before her and quickly got out her phone. Suddenly Sarah felt a strange urge to tug herself up. She stretched her hands out imploringly to Rob and he reached down to her. Her feet came down to the ground, spread one each side of the chair and, as the awful clenching pain gripped her again she pulled fiercely. Rob staggered, caught by surprise, but then, in pulling back, tugged the labouring teacher right out of the chair. All at once Sarah felt the twisting of her body and the increase in gravity force her lips to give way with a horrible tearing pain. “AAAAaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeee!!!” she shrieked in an uncontrolled scream, clinging convulsively to the startled boy. For a moment the baby’s enormous battering head stuck in the rigid grip of her paper thin labia, but then it mercilessly thrust through and popped out between her bowed thighs. Karen looked back from her phone call and was struck dumb by the sight of the back of the naked teacher clinging to Rob’s neck, her legs bent wide apart and the upside down and rather surprised and disgruntled face of a baby poking out between them.

“HHhhhoooooo! HHhhhoooooo!” gasped Sarah, “Karen… HHhhhoooooo! Catch!! HHhhhnnnnggggg!!!!” And with that she clutched Rob for dear life and bore down and Karen had to scramble between her legs to catch the slippery form of her child as it slid and then squirted into free fall out of her slimy twat, splashing hot, bloody, mucusy fluid all over the girl’s front. (EEeeewww! Thanks bitch!) With a groan Sarah sagged back into the chair. Rob was speechless with emotion. He rather wished that it had been his hands into which his lovely teacher had squeezed out her babe, but relieved that he had not been given an opportunity to drop it. But the experience of holding her beautiful fertile body as she brought her new life into the world was a memory he would always treasure. As he would the wonderful sight of her seated again, her victorious but ravaged vulva gaping with the evidence of her achievement and threading out from it the plump twisted cord still attaching her womb to the tiny form lying on the deflated curve of her belly and nuzzling at one thick, upstanding nipple. As for Karen, although she didn’t exactly ‘save herself for marriage’, there was no one in her age group in that city who was more punctilious about birth control. If ever passion threatened to sneak up on her she need only think back to that terrible day when she had watched a foolish slut forced to ruinously overstretch her womanhood because of a single thoughtless act.