Rapid Delivery

Hi guys. I'm on Platform 3 at Central station. There's barely any room to stand, but there I am. See if you can spot somewhere in the sea of frustrated commuters a small red panda boy in an oversized black hoodie and grey sweatpants. It’s a hot day and I’m tired and sweaty and I can barely stand ‘cause my feet are killing me.

Despite the hoodie you can still probably spot my belly from a mile away. It looks like I've stuffed a beach ball up my shirt. I'm almost as large as when I had the twins and there's only one in there this time. I'm not a big guy, Fraser's not a big guy, I don't know why our baby is so freaking enormous. 

The last three trains have been cancelled. They said it was a signal fault, or something like that. The intercom's fucked as usual. Rapid transit, what a joke.

Finally a train pulls up, already packed, and soon it's filled to overcapacity. I let myself be carried along the tide of impatient anthros shuffling and squeezing onto the train.

As I got on the train I feel my womb cramp up and I try not to cry out. The passenger in my belly is getting impatient too it seems, even though he’s not due for another week.

I could have asked for the priority seat technically but there's no room for the guy in the seat to stand up and let me sit down. I jostle my way to a corner of the carriage, so I’m standing with my back to the wall and the tiniest of breathing space. 

Even more passengers are piling in. They're using one of those pushers to jam the last of them into the train so the doors can close. I protectively hold my arms in front of my swollen belly as I shuffle and try to make myself smaller and tucking my tail in between my legs. Everyone is bunched up against everyone else and the noise is maddening. I'm getting mad sensory overload so I pull the hood of my jacket over my head and rotate myself to face the corner.

It's warm, the air conditioning is struggling, and it's the end of the day. I'll let you imagine the stuffiness and the smell. Keeping the hoodie on was a mistake, but taking it off now would be a huge hassle since I can't even lift up my arms without causing a commotion, so I just take it as my fur gets drenched in sweat.

The door finally closes and we get moving. I wince through a sharp cramp, gritting my teeth as the pain travels down my back, and the pressure builds up in my pelvis. The contractions are getting scarily close together for having just started a couple hours ago...

It's okay, I tell myself. I've been through this before. When I had the twins I was in labour for, like, an entire day. They say the second time it's faster, but surely not that fast.

I still have time.

I thought I was going to have an easier birth this time but clearly it’s not going to be. When the contraction reaches its peak it takes my all not to scream out. I dig my claws into my wrist, taking any distraction from the brutal crush going on down below.

Just wait, baby, please. Dad's almost home...

I don't get much of a breather before I seize up with the next contraction. Holding back tears I tremble and whimper. The immense pressure in my pelvis is compelling me to move but there is no room to do that, and especially not drawing the attention of everyone in the carriage. All I can do is rock myself back and forth trying to ride it out.

The baby shifts and he's now sitting alarmingly low in my pelvis. His weight presses down towards my entrance making me want to howl.

The baby’s coming. The baby’s coming now.

I get flashbacks to when I delivered the twins and the memories of the pain and the fear come flooding back. I remember pushing alone in the dark with the baby stuck inside me for hours. Then doing it all again with his twin while barely conscious.

And I’m going to have to do it all over again.

The train enters into a tunnel and at the same time I feel the world closing in all around me. Confined to a square foot corner of a packed carriage with a baby that wants out.

With a shaking paw I text my boyfriend:

								stuck on a train and in labour help

Oh shit oh fuck how far apart 
are contractions

								5 mins...

Shit I'm leaving now can you 
get off at the next station?

								next is museum and ill try

Okay hang in there Sasha
I love you

We're almost at the next station. I will have to shove and elbow my way to the door but too bad that has just to happen now. I absolutely must get off this tr--

S C R E E E E E E E E E C H

The train comes to a sudden halt. People are knocked off their paws and tumble hard into me and push me against the wall. I feel a sharp cramp in my belly and a gush of fluids coming out from between my legs.

The baby's head lurches downwards and drives into my cervix at full force. There’s no bag of water to cushion the blow now, it’s soaking into my pants as I panic and hyperventilate.

The awful squeezing pain ramps up in intensity. The baby's head insistently presses down, down, down... then I feel it. A familiar urge, uncontrollable and unstoppable and overpowering everything else, every fibre and nerve in my body telling me to do this one thing.

Don't push. Sasha for god's sake you can't push. Just. Don't. Push.

I push. I clench my eyes shut and grit my teeth and push. I beg and beg but my body refuses to obey me. It doesn’t care I’m stuck underground in an airless train with hundreds of strangers. I’m just a birthing machine to push the baby out whether I’m ready or not.

I stand frozen horrified and helpless to stop myself bearing down as my womb squeezes the oversized head of my baby into my birth canal. I strangle a scream in my throat and direct all my focus to pushing the baby out, keeping silent even as he tears through me. 

The contraction leaves the baby lodged in my birth canal, somehow wedged impossibly tightly while feeling so heavy that it feels like he's going to just fall out of me. Already the next wave of pain was building up. I gather my willpower to resist the urge to push.

But it’s too late.

I’m out of time.

Hey Sasha I'm on my way but 
traffic is bad, how are you 
holding up?

								train not moving and he's coming out i dont think theres time

WTF?? Can you delay it?

								im trying but my bodys pushing
i cant stop ittt

Shit shit shit shit
I'm coming Sasha
please baby don't be born just yet

								fraser im so fkn cursed never to have a normal birth i just want a normal birth 
in a hospital
								⚠️ Not Delivered

The next contraction forces the baby down my birth canal like a battering ram. He’s big, he’s strong, and he’s coming out fast. My body forces me to push even as I’m on the edge of passing out. The head slams hard into my prostate. My cock explodes in my underwear. I’m shaking as I cum through the contraction, any pleasure simply drowned in an ocean of pain. Still trying to keep silent, still hoping what’s happening isn’t happening and I’m not giving birth right now on this train.

A paw rises to my mouth to smother a cry. I drop my useless phone into a pocket with the other paw and fumble to get inside my soaked sweatpants. I cup the paw over the head painfully bulging at my entrance and almost faint.

It's enormous.

I'm gonna die.

I'm gonna die he's going to burst out of me and rip my cock and balls off and I'm gonna fucking die.

The contractions rip through me one after another. The crushing pressure shreds apart what's left of my composure, the pain slicing through the threadbare nerves still holding me together. My boy cunt burns like it’s being blowtorched, as it stretches excruciatingly around the massive emerging head, so rapidly I’m on the verge of being ripped open.

I scream and see stars as the baby's head tear out of me and into my underwear. The shoulders painfully scrapes through between my legs and the rest of the body tumble out after them. 

He’s active from the first second, squirming strongly and letting out a loud wail calling out for me to fish him out of my pants. I hold him up with shaking paws even as I feel the heat of a thousand shocked stares at my tail. I tried so hard to be quiet, to not make a scene, and he’s announcing his arrival at the top of his lungs, unapologetic.

I let myself cry, too. I lean against the wall of the carriage, still upright, somehow, barely. A few passengers ask if I’m alright but otherwise they shuffle away giving me some space. One of them buzzed the emergency intercom for me explaining the situation.

By the time the train is moving again I had pushed out the placenta and it’s just there on the floor while I just hold my very vocal son to my chest. At least he seems fine, almost revelling in the attention. I’m still trembling from the whole ordeal.

I really did it. I really gave birth on the train.