Day #3 - ADVENT CALENDAR 2025

Disclaimer: All characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. This content is intended for mature audiences only. By proceeding, you acknowledge that you are legally permitted to view explicit material in your jurisdiction and understand that this work contains adult themes.

WORD COUNT: 7k words

SUMMARY: Natalie is heavily pregnant, and, refusing to lose her independence, decides to go on her own to do the Christmas shopping. Charlotte is heavily pregnant but has no other option than to work her shift on the busiest day of the year. They're both in labor. Two very different women who end up with something in common: both of them push their babies out in the very same mall.

TAGS: fpreg, public birth, clothing birth, labor denial, double birth, birth in a supermarket/mall

NATALIE

Cleo's voice came from the kitchen, raising above the robotic, high-pitched sound of a Christmas song coming from one of her kids' toys, the same song that had been playing over and over since the moment the alarm clock went off in this house.

“You know, you don’t really have to go out.”

A low hum vibrated through Natalie's throat. A response that was closer to I heard you and I don't care rather than a yes. The blonde leaned forward, her stomach bumping against the edge of the vanity as she finished applying her lipstick.

Yes, she knew. Natalie was very well aware that there was no real need for her to go out right now. The blonde didn't have to make her personal mission to make a reality the list her kids made for Santa. Natalie didn't exactly live under a rock, where, apparently, the news about the existence of delivery services hadn't reached. She knew she could go and use a website, fill the metaphorical cart, and press buy.

But that was no fun.

It just wasn't the same as being there. And Natalie thought that she had made a very convincing point last night when she explained to her wife why she just had to go to the mall. It just wasn't the same, giving in the convenience of the blue light of a computer screen instead of the cold shining of fluorescent lights, to miss out on the cheap decorations and the unnecessary crap people seemed to be dying to buy.

She wanted some human interaction, laughing with the person next to you in line, flirting with the cashier a bit. And for fuck’s sake, she needed a break from this household. Of course, she didn’t word it that way to Cleo. It sounded more like a plea about needing fresh air, one little getaway before this baby came, and one more little voice screaming was added to the pile.

Natalie wasn't asking for permission, but it was very thoughtful of her to let her wife know she was going, especially when she was this bloody pregnant, like Cleo had said: just one wrong movement from popping this baby out.

In the kitchen, Cleo was still trying to negotiate with their three-year-old about something, and she was clearly losing.

Natalie took a step back and brushed a hand over her middle, dusting a spec of lint on the red fabric. Red, bold color, but the last sweater she could find that fit her properly. She tilted her head back to the mirror, studying her side profile for a moment.

She looked tired. More than tired, absolutely done. The makeup did a flawless job of disguising the exhaustion carved on her face, not particularly bound to anything, just the normal exhaustion of the holidays and the daily life of a grown-up. Inevitably, her eyes moved lower, roaming over the curve of her swollen chest, staring at the way her engorged breasts were barely contained by her maternity bra and the fabric of her sweater. Lower, breaking the somewhat harmony of her body, her pregnant stomach protruding massively in front of her.

God, she was carrying low, wasn’t she?

She felt like a whale. A whale wearing a pathetic and awful Christmas sweater she got on sale last month.

Natalie sighed. Not that she didn't expect to look like this when she was nine months (and maybe a few weeks more, just maybe) pregnant. But damn, she was sure her stomach didn't look like that barely a few days ago, that she wasn't carrying this low, that she didn't look like this baby was very comfortably sitting low, so low on that if she stared really hard, she for sure could make the shape of the baby filling the lower part of her stomach.

But she wasn’t worried. She had to get induced with their last baby after going overdue. And even then, her labor lasted centuries.

So, even if she had been having some mildly uncomfortable cramps that resembled a bit too much the familiar distress of contractions taking over her round middle, Natalie was fine. Braxton Hicks, right?

As if the baby in her belly could read her mind, her stomach tightened in response.

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte let out a scream. An ugly, loud, gritty scream fitting of a woman in her situation.

Thank God, the parking lot was empty. Not like it mattered, she would have screamed anyway, but still.

The peek of herself in her reflection of her car window did not help to clear the cloud of despair and irritation washing over her, the annoyance she could already feel crawling up her body.

Charlotte couldn't believe she was working. Correction: she couldn't believe that she was this heavily pregnant and still working.

But here she was, staring at the entrance of the mall, mentally cursing her manager and the sudden staff shortage that had forced Charlotte to be a big girl and fill in for the greater good of this company, like her manager had said.

And because if she said no, she knew that she was going to be really close to getting fired.

With this baby on the way, Charlotte really couldn’t afford to waste one single penny, and if she had the chance to get more money, the better. She just had to be patient and suck it in for a few more weeks. Just a few more weeks, and she could be at home, resting, with her baby.

“Alright,” Charlotte sighed, staring at her own reflection in the car window. “You can do this. You’ve got it. Let’s go.”

Her hands moved to her lower back, fingers digging against the strained muscle to offer her own body some kind of support as her eyes wandered to face her skewed reflection. Charlotte stared at her own cheeks, stung by the cold, the irritated skin barely hidden by her scarf. Her coat was doing a very sturdy job of hanging on, barely clinging to her swollen body, the button of the coat looking like it was about to give out where the swell of her rounded abdomen started to strain on the fabric.

Damn, this baby was low.

Charlotte had been rather absentminded of her own body these days, barely aware of the way her swollen form filled the spaces, existed around the rest of the world unless her attention was pulled by the fact that she was fucking pregnant, by her baby kicking her ribs or pressing on her bladder.

Well, at least last night, she had finally been able to have one good night of sleep. And she was strangely able to breathe without feeling like something was pressing down on her body. You know, all the little quirks that happen when you’re carrying a little human being inside of you.

Charlotte took a step back, checking one last time the car was properly closed and locked, and with another sigh started to waddle inside the mall.

The AC hit her immediately as soon as she crossed the automatic doors, the suffocating heat of the masses of people floating around in the cramped space of the mall. Someone rushed past her. Someone bumped into her with a bunch of bags, didn't turn to apologize. Somewhere, a kid tripped and started crying even before they hit the floor.

God, these people were like animals. And like clockwork. Barely a few hours away from rush hour and this place was already boiling.

One of her hands moved from her lower back to her stomach, brushing over the swollen curve to undo the button of her coat. The fabric fell open, offering a brief moment of relief. Like anything good in this life, it didn't last long before she started to waddle again, pushing past the crowd.

God, what a fucking start to this day.

Her manager was already at the automatic doors of the store, waiting for her.

The man barely looked up from his phone when she approached. Without looking, too, he reached his arm into the cardboard box resting next to him and took out something red and sparkly that made Charlotte's insides turn with annoyance as soon as she saw it.

“You’re late,” John said, “Put this on. Clock in.”

Oh, hell no. Not as long as she was alive. Absolutely not.

She didn’t even have to say anything —though her face was probably doing all the work already— for John to look up from his phone, probably already aware of the answer that awaited him, as if Charlotte's exasperation had grown invisible hands and slapped him in the face.

“Company policy,” he swallowed, pointing with his head inside the store. “We all have to wear it.”

Charlotte looked at him, then inside. Yes, all of her coworkers looked like fucking idiots, sitting at the checkout area with those stupid Santa hats. She was about to protest when a sharp cramp rolled through her stomach. John eyes went back to his phone, pushing the Santa hat into her hands.

She really was about to protest, but the pain expanding through her middle was enough to make her suck in a sharp breath, her fingers curling around the glittery fabric of the hat, the glitter sticking to the skin of her hands, to the fabric of her clothes.

So Charlotte did what she had to learn to do best in this job. Bite back her words and her lip and waddled inside.

NATALIE

It was already a Christmas miracle that Natalie managed to find an empty parking slot. And it was another miracle she managed to park in one go without fucking any cars in the process.

Driving wasn't exactly Natalie's strength, but with a huge belly in the way, driving had become harder and harder these days. She turned off the engine and reached to unclasp her seatbelt. Froze when her stomach contracted.

She took a deep breath, her eyes moving to find her own reflection in the rearview mirror.

“Ugh, easy, baby…” she exhaled, moving her hands to rub soothing circles on the side of her stomach. “Easy.”

The muscle was tight under the fabric of her sweater, and what she thought was going to remain as another one of these annoying Braxton Hicks —they had been coming nonstop these last days, her body getting ready for the inevitable— didn't stop. The discomfort of the pressure on her swollen middle turned into a burning sensation rolling through the gravid surface of her stomach, into her lower back. A small groan escaped Natalie's lips as she let the seatbelt snap back in place against her stomach, feeling the pressure of the belt as she moved her fingers to massage the aching muscles of her back.

A contraction. That had been a contraction. After two kids and a pregnancy, she knew. That was a contraction.

She swallowed, checked her watch.

The pain finally passed, leaving only the feeling of discomfort lingering on her body.

Well, even if she was potentially in labor, she was here already. She had stuff to buy. And this could take ages.

The blonde let out a moan when she finally unclasped the seatbelt, her stomach finally free from its constriction, her gravid belly sprawling over her spread thighs.

It had been hard enough climbing in this car and hard enough finding a position to sit without feeling like the baby inside of her was dodging right on her pelvis, her hips hurting every time she let herself sink against the plush of the seat. Now she had to get off.

With a groan, she moved to open the door, then swing one leg outside. The cold air hit the skin of her warm face and made her shiver. Natalie's hand gripped the open door as she slowly, very slowly, her free hand cupping the underside of her gravid stomach, palm pressing against the hard surface as she climbed outside the car.

She stood there for a second, one hand pressing against her lower back, fingers massaging the tense muscles, the other cradling her lower belly as she stared at the mall ahead of her, trying to lift the weight pulling her down.

So she took a deep breath, ignored the feeling of the baby sitting down on her pelvis, so low that Natalie was now suddenly aware of the way her body had accommodated in the last few hours to the feeling of the weight nestled deep down on her hips, the way her somewhat decent waddling had turned into a cumbersome sway of her gravid body as she walked inside the mall.

It was going to be fine.

CHARLOTTE

“My, look at you!” Jessie, from the deli counter, shouted. “You look ready to push that baby out, girl!”

Charlotte didn't stop walking. Not because she wanted to be mean, but because her back was killing her, and she never thought she would say it, but God, she wanted to be sitting down in her place right now. She was sure some of the customers turned their heads to stare at her, at her swollen stomach, at the way she was waddling in the middle of aisle four. She just turned to give Jessie a quick smile and continued her way towards the checkout area.

“You sure it's just one?” Jessie laughed, watching her go.

“Very sure.”

Well, mostly. One big, very heavy baby.

James was already looking out for her when she approached the checkout area. When she finally reached him, the boy shot her a look. God, she wasn't in the mood for his stupid face today.

“You're late,” he said, already standing up and taking his stuff.

“Whatever,” Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Get lost."

The chair creaked, the seat sinking under her weight as she slowly let herself down onto her work station. A quiet groan escaped her mouth as her body settled against the cushions, letting herself fall back against the backrest of the chair. Allegedly, it was an ergonomic chair. Allegedly, the ergonomic part of it had stopped working the moment she hit the seven-month mark.

She could go just a few hours before her back started to complain, before he hips started to complain, before her legs started to complain. Today, she barely got a break before the feeling of discomfort settled deep in every fiber of her muscles.

An hour. That was how much Charlotte lasted before her own body started to complain, before the muscles on her lower body started to cramp and ache, before the throbbing pain that had been coming and coming and going on her lower belly made her squirm in place.

Charlotte rolled her hips, the chair moving with her as her eyes drifted down to her stomach, the large dome resting heavy and tight on her thighs. One of her hands continued scanning the items while she let the other roam freely over the side of her stomach, rubbing the sore surface.

Gum. Carrots. A jar of peanut butter. Good God, what kind of shopping list was this? A package of condoms. Flour.

“We have a buy-one-get-one-free deal on gum,” she exhaled, looking up at the man in front of her.

The man shook his head. Charlotte scanned the last item and reached for a bag to start packing his stuff. Her body froze halfway there, a quiet gasp escaping her lips, turning into a hiss when her body finally caught up with her mind, and the sharp pain exploding in the center of her stomach and radiating through her middle made her body jerk.

She forced herself to continue with her work. That couldn't be a contraction, right? At all.

And if it was a contraction, the annoyed sound that came from someone on the line behind the man did not give her a minute to think about it.

“Can you hurry up?” Someone complained from behind the man. “We've been here forever.”

The pain finally went away. Well, try being here forever and in this state, asshole.

Charlotte grabbed the flour and started placing the items slowly —a bit too slowly, on purpose— on the paper bag.

NATALIE

Apparently, unlike the rest of her body, her feet were one level lower on the first level of hell. They were killing her.

But still, Natalie found herself pushing one of the shopping carts from the supermarket through the packed aisles of the store. Nothing in particular had caught her attention from the display cases, but since she was already here, why not go in? What harm could it do?

She couldn’t complain; it could always be worse. Like that one poor girl she saw as soon as she walked into the store, barely able to fit on the cashier’s stool, her huge gut getting in the way of everything. Oh, Natalie could never do that. She was as happy as she could be being a stay-at-home mom.

The wheels of the cart slid across the floor as Natalie dodged the crowds of people with skilled precision. So far, she had had three unpleasant encounters with assholes today. Natalie had come in there expecting at least one crazy asshole to cross her way — these were times when people were very sensitive, always on edge— but god, how pathetic you had to be to pick a fight with a heavily pregnant woman?

For her own sanity and the sake of her own baby, Natalie did what she did best: breathe in, breathe out, and keep going with her business.

She did her best to ignore the weird feeling that had been seething in her stomach, a tightness in her middle that she convinced herself was just anxiety, the overwhelming, constant buzzing of the mall, her own patience reaching its limit.

The first thing that hit her was the strong smell of the artificial scent reaching her nose as soon as Natalie slid into the candle aisle.

Once, just the idea of acquiring a new seasonal candle would have made her twirl with excitement, but right now, everything was being a bit too much. Too strong, too sweet, too wrong. It all made her feel slightly nauseous.

Coconut and honey. Cherry cola. Peppermint. Oh, peppermint, that could work. Natalie pushed the cart out of her way and reached forward to take the candle, opening the jar before taking it up to her face, letting the scent fill her nostrils.

The jar almost fell from her hands straight to the floor when the pain took over her stomach.

“Oh…” Natalie gasped, one of her hands tightening around the glass jar, the other moving to hold herself steady from one of the shelves. “Ugh. Uff…”

The blonde let the candle almost fall hastily on the shelf, not caring if it was in the right section. Natalie barely managed to hastily put the lid back on before she let out a gasp, leaning forward, her body doubling over in pain.

“Oh, God…” she breathed, eyes closing shut.

Someone rushed behind her, hitting her own cart with theirs. She heard the sound of something glass clinking against glass being shaken in her cart. On some other occasion, she would have given them a damn hard time, but right now.

Fuck.

Natalie's eyes snapped open. The cold lights blinked on top of her head, and she could feel her own brain stopping for a moment, the overwhelm drilling into her head. It only took one second for it all to become too much: the pain, the lights, the terrible Christmas song playing constantly on the speakers of the store.

And the pain didn't go away.

“Mommy, mommy!”

A whiny voice weeping behind her snapped her out of it. The tension in her middle started to fade. With a deep breath, sucking in the disgusting smell of the candles, Natalie pushed herself away from the shelf and tilted around, finding her own cart.

A little kid was running around. A woman who looked half asleep, with a baby on her hip and a stain of vomit in her shirt, was trying to control another one of the toddlers running in front of her.

Natalie took out her phone, opened Cleo's chat. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. The last contraction was still echoing through her body, pain throbbing in her gravid middle.

She typed. Deleted. Typed again. Natalie swallowed, her brain was doing mental gymnastics to assure herself that the little text she was drafting was not a cry for help, but rather being thoughtful. She was going to let Cleo know that maybe, just maybe, she was right and that Natalie was in labor.

And that she might need someone to pick her up in like half an hour.

Natalie started walking again, her steps slow and measured as she distractedly pushed the cart in front of her, her attention still on her phone. When she was finally done with her text, she closed Cleo's chat. Didn't send it. A draft was going to be enough if she needed it.

CHARLOTTE

“Excuse me. Excuse me, young lady.”

Charlotte barely looked up from her phone resting on top of her stomach, her manicured nails still scrolling across the screen. In front of her, separated by the barrier that prevented customers from crowding together, an old woman with an awful bob cut was snapping her fingers, her whiny voice cutting through the annoying Christmas music playing through the speakers.

“I’m talking to you,” the woman insisted, trying to lift the barrier. “I’ve been here waiting for like an hour.”

Actually, ten minutes. Ten minutes had passed since Charlotte had put up the out-of-service sign on the register.

The checkout area had gone from tense to a full-blown battlefield in the last few minutes. Hordes of people with full carts started to crowd into the endless checkout lines, and Charlotte watched as her coworkers—with only two hands—threw themselves into the battle of doing their jobs as fast as they could to avoid the wrath of the customers.

Ten minutes since her computer froze. She was painfully aware of how much time had passed, because it had also been ten minutes since her last contraction.

And her manager was still nowhere to be seen. All this man had to do was come here and type in a code, and that was going to fix all this. And he couldn't even do that. Of course, she wasn’t going to explain any of that just for it to fall on the deaf ears of the customers. The woman who kept trying to get her attention wasn’t going to care about whatever technical issue had happened in the system that was causing these terrible, life-threatening delays.

She was about to like someone’s Instagram post when the woman snapped her fingers right in front of her face.

Uh. That was not right. Charlotte frowned, looking up to find the woman’s face in front of her.

“Ma’am,” Charlotte said, sitting up, her back complaining at the sudden change in her position. “Please go back there, we are out of—”

The woman scoffed and leaned forward, irritation leaking through every word. “Maybe if you were doing your job instead of playing on your phone, I wouldn’t have to.”

Charlotte pressed her lips together, fighting the snap back. A small tug at her stomach made her swallow. “This register is out of service, I can’t—”

“I don’t care,” the woman shot back. “I’ve been waiting, and you’re just sitting there...”

“My manager will be here any moment to help us,” Charlotte raised her eyebrows, “But you have to—”

This time, it wasn’t the woman who interrupted her; it was the sharp pain taking over her middle. Charlotte's hips jerked in place when she felt the burn bolting through the muscles of her gravid stomach, through the bones of her hips as a contraction took over her. Her entire body leaned forward, hands gripping the checkout counter as her hips lifted slightly from the seat, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Oh,” she breathed, thighs trembling and muscles complaining at the position. “Hmh. Ma’am…you really…”

Her nails dug against the cold surface of the counter when Charlotte bit her lips, trying to keep a moan from escaping her mouth. The pressure in her middle was still growing, the pain still spreading around her belly. Oh, fuck. This was not a good moment.

“Charlotte, do we have a problem here?” Her manager’s voice snapped her out of it.

The man barely looked at her before he moved straight towards the frozen screen of her computer, the little bell in his Santa’s hat jingling.

Charlotte swallowed, forcing herself upright despite the burning pain in her middle. “The computer froze. I called for assistance, and I was just explaining to this lady that—”

“I don’t care what you were explaining,” he interrupted her. “The line’s backed up. The customer’s been waiting.”

The woman nodded in agreement.

Charlotte opened her mouth to respond, but her words got stuck in her mouth when another wave of pain made her suck in a gasp, her knuckles turning white around the cold surface of the counter. God, this couldn’t be happening right now.

Her manager noticed none of it—or chose not to. “You can’t just sit here when the computer freezes,” he went on. “You know that.”

He leaned over her shoulder and punched in the override code. The screen blinked, went black, then began its slow reboot.

“There,” he said. “Problem solved.”

“I…” she started, “I need five minutes to go to the bathroom.”

Her manager looked at her. Then, raised his eyebrows, and the little bell in his hat jingled as he turned around, scanning the checkout area. The people were still crowding in the place.

“You can’t,” the man said, not turning to look at her, offering a white smile to the clients in line before turning back to her. “Not right now. You can hold it in. It’s rush hour. You had all this time to go. And there’s no one able to cover you, anyway.”

“I need to go to the bathroom…” Charlotte hissed, voice low enough only for her boss to hear. “I—”

“Not the moment.” His manager cut her words, then, turning to face the waiting woman, his voice instantly smoother. “Sorry about the delay, ma’am. We’ll have you taken care of right away.”

She needed to go right now. She could feel the pressure starting to build between her legs, and God, she wasn’t going to make it to the bathroom if she waited until the next moment someone could cover her.

“Girl,” the woman snapped her fingers in front of her face, pointing to her items. “Could you…?”

Charlotte bit her lip and started to scan the items. Her chair kept squeaking every time she squirmed in place, every time her hips rolled and gyrated as she tried to find an angle where the pressure wouldn't make her want to scream. God, she needed to go to the bathroom right now.

“Cash or car…!” Charlotte barely could finish her sentence when she felt it, the burst of liquid coming from between her legs.

Her body jerked, forcing her legs close together to try and stop it, but she realized that she couldn't. She felt the fabric of her uniform pants drenched, and beneath, the padded seat of the chair becoming something dense and mushy as it absorbed the liquid. Oh, this couldn’t be happening to her.

And why couldn’t she stop it? The liquid kept coming out of her in small trickles, now leaking towards the floor and starting to form a puddle at her feet. Charlotte let out a quiet moan when she pushed her chair away from the counter, letting her trembling legs spread open again —God, it was uncomfortable to try and keep them closed— as she stared at the liquid beneath.

“Oh,” she moaned quietly at the realization, “Oh.”

That was not pee.

In front of her, the woman tapped the plastic card twice in the card reader, not turning to look at her as she scrambled through her purse.

“Card. And hurry up, I’ve got things to do.”

NATALIE

“Excuse me,” Natalie waddled towards the woman in front of her, “Excuse me, lady. That’s mine. It was on my cart.”

“No, it wasn’t. It was on the aisle.”

“...I was reserving it for later.”

“No, uh,” the woman shook her head, holding the toy close to her chest. “Not how it works, honey.”

Natalie raised her eyebrows, both her hands digging against the muscles of her lower back as she waddled closer to the woman. She reached one hand to hover near the toy, but at the same time, almost as if her own body was warning her that she was being an asshole, her stomach tightened.

“Please, I really—” she said through gritted teeth.

The other woman took a step back. “I saw it first. You can get your own.”

Yes, she could technically get her own. But she was in a rush. The other woman clearly did not care that she looked how she looked —a heavily pregnant woman skimming through aisle seven— nor did she know that in the past few minutes, her contractions had become…well, a matter of importance. They were coming so fast, so close together.

Natalie just had one more item on her list, and then she could leave. The text message in her phone was still saved as a draft on her wife’s chat.

She was about to protest, to lunge forward again to grab that stupid doll her kid had asked for, but a sharp pain rolled over her middle, forcing her to freeze in place, her hands flying to the tense surface of her stomach. Her fingers gripped the fabric of her sweater, one of her hands moving to grip the edge of the shelf to steady herself. Beneath her, her knees threatened to buckle for a moment, the moment where she felt the sudden drop of something inside her, a weight moving lower on her hips.

She clenched her jaw, trying to focus. Not now. Please, not now. She had things to do.

The woman noticed and rolled her eyes. “That’s not gonna work with me.”

There had to be something in the air of this damn store, because on a normal day, Natalie would not have made not even a quarter of this little show. She could have easily gone and picked another one. But right now, all she wanted was the one that was in that woman’s hands.

“You—”

Something nasty was about to come out of her mouth, but Natalie was interrupted when she felt a familiar warmth starting to spread down her legs, her eyes widening as she looked down. She saw her own jeans turning dark blue as amniotic liquid gushed down her legs, hitting the shining tiles of the floor that an employee had been cleaning just minutes ago.

“Shit,” Natalie gasped, one of her hands moving between her legs to feel the sticky liquid still coming out of her. “Shit. My water just broke.”

The other woman froze for a split second, then waved a dismissive hand. “W…well… hurry it up then, lady. Don’t block the aisle.”

The last thing Natalie saw before the woman started walking away was that damn toy leaving with her in her hands. She leaned against the shelf, breathing heavily as the tension in her stomach started to form again.

Oh, no, please not now.

Natalie turned around, slowly waddling toward her shopping cart, and let herself lean against it as her fingers tightened around the handle, pushing it down the aisle. The wet fabric of her jeans stuck to the skin of her legs with every movement.

And there was so much pressure.

No one turned to look twice at her as she slowly walked away.

CHARLOTTE

Charlotte couldn’t sit still. She just couldn’t keep her hips from rolling against the chair; she couldn’t keep her body from quivering every time tension took over her muscles, every time the pain of a contraction rolled through her middle and made her grit her teeth and cling tightly to the checkout counter, thighs trembling as she forced herself to keep her legs pressed together.

This was the third time in the last ten minutes she had hit with desperate urgency the button to request a bathroom break.

God, she needed to get up. She needed something that could help relieve the pressure growing between her legs. She wanted to get up and walk around and let her own hands roam freely over her tense middle, to try and soothe somehow the gravid stomach that hung in front of her.

Sitting here, like this, with her legs pressed together and her body leaning forward was not the most comfortable option, but it was the only position in where she could somehow ignore the urge to push that would come and hit her brain from time to time, not allowing her to think about anything else but the feeling of the baby’s head resting low on her birth canal, the feeling that if she reached and slid her hand between her legs, slid it under the wet fabric of the pants she still had not had the chance to change out of and under the fabric of her panties, she would probably feel the puffy and swollen skin of her pussy lips where they started to bulge with the imminent head.

Because she didn’t need no damn doctor title to be able to tell this baby was coming.

“Ma’am…” Charlotte swallowed, eyes closing for a moment, “Your…your…”

She took a deep breath, feeling the burn of another contraction. She forced herself to spit the words out anyway.

“...card declined,” she panted, manicured nails tapping against the counter.

The woman in front of her let out a hum.

God, this couldn’t be taking this long.

The woman reached into her purse, rummaging through the huge bag. One second, two seconds, three seconds. Charlotte's hips rolled against the chair, her chin falling to her chest as she took in a deep breath, feeling the pain cramping up in her stomach again. Fuck. Fuck.

The woman took out her wallet. Slid the zipper open. Took one card. Then the other. Then the other.

“Well, try these on, they'll do just fine. Split that right up between them three.”

Oh, for fuck's sake.

Charlotte nodded. She leaned forward and pressed the bathroom break button again, just in case. Then, reached for the first card.

The chair protested when she moved, her body protested when she moved, and Charlotte had to bite one of her fingers to keep a moan from escaping her lips when she felt another contraction coming. Her legs trembled when she felt the mass between her legs moving lower, and she couldn’t stop it when her own thighs slowly started to spread.

There was a momentary feeling of relief when her gravid stomach was finally allowed to rest freely between her spread legs, but as Charlotte slid the first card on the machine, the relief lasted little.

The baby’s head moved lower.

“AH–nghn…. ma’am,” Charlotte groaned, her body tensed, trying to keep it from moving, “...ghnnn, pin. Pin.”

Her body jerked, her hips tilting to an angle in such an uncomfortable position that her back protested, but like this, she could feel the seat cushion pressing against her bulging pussy, and Charlotte was sure that like that, there was no way this baby’s head could come out any further.

The woman leaned in to press the keys. The machine beeped. Wrong.

“Oh, sorry, dear…” the woman laughed. “Let’s try again.”

On the line, someone complained. Someone insulted someone else. A security guard walked in to stop a possible dispute.

The woman tried the pin again.

NATALIE

For fuck’s sake, what was she thinking? How on Earth could coming here be a good idea?

The file was infinite. She couldn’t even see the checkout area from where she was.

Natalie was leaning against her cart, her body contorted in an angle, her stomach hanging low in front of her as her hips swayed from side to side. Right now, she couldn't even care if anyone complained about how much space she was taking or about anything, because all her brain could focus on was all the possible outcomes of how long these cashiers could take before she was able to reach the checkout. And if the moment that happened, she was going to be able to even walk outside this store.

Ten minutes. Maybe less if the person in front of her paid with card and not with cash, like the woman who just left, who took an eternity counting coin by coin her change.

Natalie wasn't sure she had exactly ten minutes in her. What was she thinking when she thought it could possibly be a good idea to come here, today, like this?

Clearly a momentary lapse in reason. And she was paying the price right now.

"Uhgn...fuck..." she hissed, pressing her forehead against her forearm, letting her knees buckle as she let herself almost fall into a squat, hips swaying. "Fuck. Come on. Hurry up."

She didn't even care that the wet spots in her jeans were still painfully obvious and very visible. She had more important things to do, like trying to keep this baby inside of her.

That was getting harder and harder to accomplish by the second. Natalie swallowed; she could feel the mass of the baby's head moving down, lower, pushing down inside of her as she just stood there. Her body was pushing this baby out and she couldn't do anything to keep it from happening, no matter what position she bent into, how hard she tried. The head was slowly making its way down, and she could feel it slowly starting to spread her dilated pussy open, centimeter by centimeter.

This couldn't be happening to her. Not here.

Her head snapped up when she felt the unmistakable fire starting to spread on her pussy as the head moved lower, her swollen lips starting to stretch around the girth of the descending baby's head. Shit.

"Shit..." Natalie moaned, her hands tightening around the cart handle, knuckles going white. "No. Shit, where's my phone?"

She reached for her phone in her bag with trembling hands, looking for Cleo's chat. The message was still there, waiting for her to press send. When she felt the pain of another contraction starting to tense her stomach, she pressed send.

One tick. One gray tick.

Shit. What on earth was her wife doing with her phone off?

The person in front of her moved forward. Natalie leaned her weight against the cart and forced her tense body to waddle forward, following the line.

Bad idea. A gasp escaped her mouth when she felt the head moving lower, her pussy spreading open when the baby pushed down.

Oh, no.

"Excuse me, sir..." she moaned, reaching one hand to get the attention of the man in front of her. " I really need to skip the line...nhghn....please."

"Hell, no. I've been waiting here for an hour. Why on earth would I let you skip in line?"

Natalie breathed in. The pain rolled through her gravid stomach, and she felt the pressure building between her legs as her hands tightened around the cart handle. The wet fabric of her jeans clung to the skin of her legs as a small trickle of amniotic fluid trickled down from inside her.

Charlotte let out a moan. Her thighs trembled as she slowly, almost trying to fight, let herself fall into a half squat.

"I'm...nghn....gonna...push...!"

In front of her, the man frowned. Then, took a step back when the burst of amniotic liquid coming from between Natalie's legs got on his shoes, a gasp of surprise escaping his mouth. He watched as the woman in front of him leaned forward, her hands gripping her thighs as she let out a whimper, her face turning into a scowl as she pushed.

Yeah, she was pushing. Not only was it an obvious fact, but the man let a small scream when he saw, between Natalie's legs, how slowly a round bulge was starting to form in the crotch of her jeans, the wet fabric stretching around it, struggling to give way to the baby's head crowning in her pants.

"Ughn...the baby...hgn...is coming!" Natalie whimpered, fingers fumbling to find the buttons of her maternity jeans.

CHARLOTTE

All Charlotte heard was a commotion. Most people didn't even turn their heads; all their focus was on keeping their place in line untouched.

The woman in front of her was now typing in the PIN of the second card. How on Earth could remembering a 4-digit code be so hard?

She couldn't care less. She had her own issue going on here that she was paying all her attention to: trying not to let her body push this baby out.

Correction: she was trying not to let herself push this baby out. Her body tensed as her hands gripped the checkout counter. She could feel the pressure between her legs, the weight trying to split her open and succeeding. Her pussy lips were stretched around the girth of the head, burning and swollen, and the only thing keeping the head inside of her body was the fabric of her pants and the chair she was pressing her body weight down.

She could feel the burn in her pussy, the fire spreading around her aching cunt as her pussy stretched around the widest part of the baby's head.

The woman entered the 4-digit code. The computer let out a small beep, and then, the screen showed the finally accepted transaction.

Charlotte let out a breath.

"We have a buy-one-get-one-free deal on gum..." she hissed, looking at the woman in front of her.

"No, thank you," the woman replied. "You feel alright, darling? Looking a little pale."

Charlotte opened her mouth to reply. The words got stuck in her throat when a moan made its way out of her, her body tensing when another contraction took over her.

God, the pressure. The burn. The stretching.

"Can you bag that for me?" the woman asked.

Charlotte's fingers tightened around the counter, one of her nails cracked slightly with the force she gripped it, her body trembling. She barely realized the moment when she lifted her hips up, when she finally pushed away from the chair and straightened up. Her shoes stepped on the puddle of her own amniotic fluid.

She leaned forward, letting her head fall against her chest and letting her legs spread wide, her thighs trembling as her body pushed.

She didn't care about bagging the woman's groceries or about the generalized sigh of impatience that reverberated through the crowd. The only thing she cared about was the tension as her body forced her to push, the feeling of the baby's head moving lower and spreading her open. The feeling of her fingers fumbling to find the waistband of her pants, tugging down at the fabric.

She didn't care about the scandalized murmur that rose behind her as she pulled the fabric of her pants and her underwear down, exposing the red and puffy skin of her crowning pussy to the world, letting everyone see her swollen lips opening around the head that was making its way out of her.

Charlotte let out a scream. An ugly, loud, gritty scream fitting of a woman in her situation, and pushed.

Her thighs trembled when she leaned forward, gripping the checkout counter, knees buckling beneath her. The head slid out of her with the next push, amniotic fluid dripping down her legs as the head dangled between her trembling thighs.

Charlotte lifted her head up, ragged breath and trembling body to find the crowd that had swarmed around her, people with wide eyes staring down at the baby crowning between her legs, some of them filming, the flashes of their phones hitting her face.

Someone she couldn't see made a comment as Charlotte reached to cup the baby's head, the shoulders sliding out of her.

"Another one? C'mon!"