birth

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The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Somewhat exaggerated birth 'grossness'.

Tagging @Pasha @Swift @Scimitar @Finley @Whittier - you are born! :D

When it happened, it wasn't as bad as Bazi had anticipated.

It was much, much worse.

At first, she dismissed the cramps as the ones she had come to know as her body's way of practicing for the real thing. They were uncomfortable, but bearable - and after some initial panicing, she was able to compartmentalize the pain. Because she know it would stop.

This time, it didn't stop.

When true labour began, no creature inhabiting Nova Peak or the surrounding areas could be in any doubt that Bazi was giving birth. The pain was indescribable. It felt as though someone was trying to force a football through the eye of a needle, squeezing her grotesquely inflated body in contraction after contraction - all the while holding an open flame to her genitals, which burned in anticipation of total ruination. Each time the vice tightened, Bazi wailed and cried like a banshee having its skin peeled off.

There was no point trying to lay down. When she wasn't pacing, Bazi half stood, half squatted in the middle of her plush den, staring between her violently shaking legs for any signs of progress. More than once, she mistook the urgent need to defecate as the final stages of labour, and nearly passed out when a number of small and shapeless lumps dropped to the floor instead of puppies. This was by far the worst day of her life.

When the time came to push, Bazi had cursed Scimitar to hell and back a thousand times. Hours had passed, and she was so delerious with pain that when Pasha finally signalled his arrival, she had no energy left to object or hold back. Perhaps that was the way nature intended it for reluctant mothers.

Her first child entered the world to the sound of his mother screaming. Bazi hunched over her belly, gritting her teeth as she heaved and pushed and grunted and gasped. Pasha inched slowly out of her, mercifully lubricated by the bag he had grown to fill but a severe punishment all the same. With one final shriek from Bazi, he was out, dropping to the ground in a mess of bright blood and birth-related slime. His mother shuffled backwards in a daze, instinctively shredding the sac with her teeth and cleaning her baby as best she could before Allure II announced that she, too, was ready to come out.

Each pup was greeted with the song of their mother's agony. Pasha, Allure II, Whitter, and Swift - the last, and smallest, but not by much. Each individual birth felt to Bazi like passing a piece of the mountain itself, dribbling fresh portions of warm mess onto her paws and into her fur. Whittier nearly killed her - figuratively speaking, getting stuck at his widest part for the worst 4 seconds of the combined life of all womankind.

And then, finally, it was over. Shattered, bleeding, and stretched beyond her limits, Bazi lowered herself onto her tender belly. Everything burned. She didn't dare consider the state of her body. Her four babies squirmed between her forelimbs, half-clean and mewling, and it struck the new mother that she really ought to move them. Wincing, she rolled onto her side, grateful that she no longer had to contend with being a hairy sphere, and began phase two of her maternal duties: the feeding. One by one, the pups were swiftly cleaned and positioned near a teat. Bazi nearly cried again when they latched on and began to pull at her tender skin, but dehydration prevented any tears from forming.

Around her, the world began to re-form. She was dimly aware of the sound of suckling.

Swift was decidedly reluctant to leave the comfort of what he knew, and so was the last to be born. When his mother had finished cleaning him, and his tiny lungs sucked in their first breath, the air was expelled in a steady rrrrrrr... not unlike the hum of a distant engine. It trailed off into a higher pitch, a protesting squeak as his mother's nose nudged him toward where he ought to be, and where his siblings already where. But young Swift had a promise to make, and his slowly he wriggled and crawled, his stubby limbs hauling him over his brothers and sister, past the nipples he instinctively sought, until he rolled and tumbled down his mother's back with a second protesting squeak as he landed clumsily on the den floor. Another steady rrrrrrr... sounded.

His promise was this: he would keep them busy and on their toes.

Little Whittier's life began rather unceremoniously with an uncomfortable squelch and a little plop.  His first opinion of the world was that it was far too cold here, and not at all as cozy as where he had been (though it was far better than that horrible tunnel he'd just been vacuumed through - wtf was up with that thing, anyway?).  All in all, he was rather unhappy with this change of atmosphere, and made certain to let whoever was around him with a series of little squeaks and baby growls.

It was right about then that comfort began to return to him in the form of one of those lumps he'd shared his prior bed with bonking him right in the head during his exit from the womb.  Whit jerked away for about a second before clambering wildly towards him, all four limbs flailing about, useless really for they did nothing to make him move.  Why weren't they working?  This used to work... Was he doing it wrong?  Oh wait, here we go.  We're moving now.  Moving, moving, moving, being smashed against something soft next to some other lumps, not moving... Why not moving?  Wait's this pokey nub jabbing me in the face?

Whit made a few more sounds to express his discontent before opening his mouth to explore this squishy wall he'd been shoved into.  And that was when the little boy experienced this most wonderful of things known as dinner.  With greedy fervor, he suckled upon the super awesome knob thing that he'd discovered, all of his negative emotions completely forgotten at the thrill of this new experience - eating.

Yeah.. he could get used to this.

I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I'M DOING

Truth be told, there was far too much going on for Pasha to simply understand. The world as he knew it had changed and in time, he would not remember this instance. As it were, it was not going to take long for him to remember just how dramatically he had come into the world, or where he had been. For now, he was merely content in finding out what it was that he could do, or rather, how he knew what he could do. From hot and cold sensations running along his lumpy body, he shortly discovered that there was one particular spot that he quite liked, and that was somewhere warm.

So being nestled in with his siblings and finding that magical source of food was, well, fantastic. And within a lengthy, if not quicker period of time, the fact that he had existed anywhere else in the world did not matter — even the fact that his own brother had recently used him as a means to escape the world as they knew it slipped away from him far too easily.

Whatever thoughts, emotions or turmoil that had plagued the little girl's mind was swept away only seconds of existing. All she knew was she had been warm -- and then, suddenly, not so much. Squeaks escaped her to emphasize her distress, but she was quickly lulled to calm when something wet smoothed across her -- warming her once more.

As nature intended, and upon guidance of the one she would soon know as her mother, Allure II was pressed to warm fur against Bazi's belly.. and teet. Latching on, the infant suckled to her heart's content, familiar with the feel of her littermate's by her side. Encased once more by love and family, sleep would steal over her once more -- and this was how it would be for awhile. Eat, sleep.. shift occasionally.

Life was simple.. and it was good.

Scimitar paced --his creamy paws would seemingly plow a rut in the ground before their den, an indication of his stress as he traveled from one end before the den mouth, and then the other. Bazi's shrill screams only stirred him to cringe, pressing his ears to his skull and his eyes to desperately peer at the den entrance -- knowing there was nothing he could do and that would not hinder.

The others stayed away for the time being, but he knew they would be close by. Finally, the noises subsided. His ears were trained upon the den, and there were distinct sounds of squeals, suckling, and breathing. Steeling himself, the cinnamon male inched closer to the entrance now, his muzzle just poking in so Bazi could only see the black of his nose. "Bazi?" It was a simple question -- but one that encompassed so much. Was she okay? Were the puppies okay? Did she need anything? Should he go in?

Waiting for any sort of direction from his mate, the new father waited helplessly outside, torn between indecision and fear.

The pups suckled greedily. Bazi stared at the four bodies nestled close to her deflated body, pressing their fragile, shaking little legs into either side of a nipple. She had done it. Barely - but now it was over.

A soft voice reached out to her. Bazi turned to look at the shadow of her mate in the doorway. "I'm .. really hungry," she murmured almost drunkenly.

Gonna be a pain in the ass on mother's day hehehe <3

Poor Swift. His mother was so exhausted from birthing him and his siblings that she hadn't noticed that her smallest pup had clambered over her and toppled down behind her. The little Frostfur's rrrrrr...'ing continued for a while until some instinct compelled him to try another tactic to get the assistance he required. So his primitive growl started spluttering into little pops until he was no longer rrrrrr...'ing but instead squeaking and yipping incessantly. All the while he wriggled, his shaky head bobbing and slowly turning from side to side, as if to make more sense of this world.

His eyes swept over the scene once more -- his eyes anxiously falling upon the four tiny bundles. But her request pushed him to his paws once more, and whisking away in to the day, the Frostfur man would not return until he found a meal to settle his mate's needs.

This would prove to take longer than desirable, and after an hour, the cinnamon wolf held a limp rabbit victoriously in his jaws. having missed two other ones prior. Moving within, he nudged the rabbit to Bazi gently, his eyes once more fixated upon the tiny beings she had brought in to the world. "Bazi.." It was all he could say at the moment -- and while the man usually held a stoical mask upon his features, it was clear the love for his children was going to be worn very much on his sleeve.

There were vibrations as others spoke.. given she could not hear yet. Allure II put little concern to this, instead stretching outward with so much exertion to a lazy stretch that her little body shook as tiny white tipped paws kicked at a brother on either side of her. Grunting quietly, she settled once more, lulled in to the realm of sleep as she was enveloped in the warmth of her family.

Scimitar disappeared from view. Slowly, Bazi started to come to. She ached everywhere, but the lack of tension and movement in her abdomen was glorious. It didn't make her feel empty, or cold - just utterly and completely relieved.

Finally, the sound of distress caught her attention. Bazi looked behind her elbow, and for one horrifying seconds, she was the mother that had lost her child within minutes of birthing him. Panic inflated her chest, and she was about to struggle to her feet when Swift's wriggling gave away his position. With a whispered holy fucking shit thank you, Bazi stretched awkwardly to pluck her little run-away from the floor and place him first in line, next to her elbow - where she could watch him.

Slowly and with fumbling movements, Bazi settled into motherhood.

She cleaned the pups, and herself, eating the rest of the membranes and their individual placentas. In the delirium of birth, she had severed their cords, but had no memory of doing so. When Scimitar poked his head back in, everyone was clean, and Bazi was smiling up at him. The scent of freshly killed rabbit made her mouth water, but she kept her sleepy eyes on her husband. "We have them," she whispered hoarsely, "Whittier, Pasha, Swift, and Allure. We have all four."

As Whittier nursed, he grew more and more unaware of the fact that there was anything at all going on around him. The lumps he had known in the womb were nestled snuggly against him (except for one who apparently had not had a traumatic enough day already so decided to make a break for it). Whit himself was quite content now, particularly as the first hour of his life passed by in quiet comfort. The stirring of the squishy wall caused him to rouse from the nap he'd slipped into and blindly he turned his head with a grumpy grumble. The squishy wall was vibrating, as was the ground beneath his chubby bottom. While not overly alarmed by it, he had been effectively awoken and thus began to knead his paws against the lump on the squishy wall, suckling greedily once again while his mother introduced him formally for the very first time to his father.

He crouched lower now, his eyes roving over the four tiny forms as they became clearer.. his eyes slowly beginning to adjust to the dark. He was taken back for a stolen moment to the four names they had originally decided upon, and how strange it was that Bazi had determined four alone would be proper.. and how uneasy he had been at settling only on four names. It was as if fate had finally smiled down upon them -- gifting them four little miracles.

Sliding forward, his muzzle would trace to Bazi's cheek, overwhelmed by everything for the moment. Moving from her, his nose would bump over each one, inhaling sharply as their new scent overcame him. Never before had love settled over him so quickly and wholly, and as the cinnamon Alpha lay upon the other end of their newborn puppies, he knew he would never take an easy breath, in fear that trouble would come upon their brood. "They're perfect," he finally spoke, his voice quiet in the small den.

The new tactic work, and soon his mother swooped in to fix his predicament. She picked him up and tucked him against her stomach, next to her elbow, where she could make sure the immediately haphazard Swift would not find himself in trouble again, or at least not so soon. And this was all the little guy needed. Surrounded by warmth and propelled by instinct, he followed suit with his siblings and pulled a teat into his mouth, suckling himself into sleep, only giving a slight wriggle when his father's nose bumped him.