The birth

I look at my naked body in the full length mirror in the room that I share with Fen. As I gaze at my reflection, I can't help but marvel at the changes my body has undergone. My curves seem more pronounced now, my hips seemed wider, my belly swollen with the life growing inside me. The thick red bush that frames my pussy catches my eye, a fiery contrast against my pale skin. I run a hand over my rounded stomach, feeling the gentle stir of the wolvir pup inside. It’s kick felt strong as it tried to reach through my womb to make contact with my hand.

I reached for some comfortable clothing to make my day easier to bear with. I found it more difficult to move since being heavily pregnant, the aches in my back and knees from carrying a wolvir pup in my womb have become almost unbearable. The discomfort I feel will be overshadowed at the joy that will soon fill me when I give birth to Fen’s first son. I put on some simple white cotton panties and a maternity dress, I forgo putting on a bra. I pull up the underwear over my thick thighs and fat ass, covering my once exposed mound and rear end. I then put on the dress, the fabric of the clothing brushes over my sensitive and erect nipples, causing me to gasp.

I have recently broken the pressure to contact my family back home. They needed to know that I am pregnant from a strong wolvir. I’m not sure of what their reaction would be when they find out that their eldest daughter had been knocked up by someone of a different species, but ultimately, I didn’t give it much thought or care. I came to the conclusion that it was at least the decent thing to let my parents know that their first grandchild would be a wolvir. I remember detailing the letter of becoming Fen’s mate and soon after that, falling pregnant, and that I was now living in the wolvir’s metropolis of Luna Peak. That my mate had many bitches and thralls, and that I was devoted to him. This letter was sent a little over a week ago, and I hoped to receive news from my family in due time.

I went downstairs to the kitchen to break my fast, sitting at the table. I was given my meal by Melantha, the first thrall that Fen had claimed. I studied her body.

Melantha moved with a grace that belied her size, her curvy frame swaying gently as she placed the meal before me. Her hips were wide and inviting, her thighs thick and powerful, each step she took seeming to emphasize the lush fullness of her figure. The fabric of her dress clung to her large breasts, which jiggled slightly with each movement, drawing my gaze inexorably to the soft mounds that seemed to strain against the material. Her face was neutral, yet there was a flicker of something in her eyes—a mixture of submission and quiet strength—that made me pause.

I imagined what Melantha would look like with a swollen belly, carrying Fen’s pup in her womb. I felt it would be an inevitable outcome for all of Fen’s bitches and thralls.

I was surprised to feel something moist at my groin, liquid ran down my leg to splash onto the floor.

“My lady.” Melantha said to me. “Your waters have broken.

It happened fast, I was taken to the shaman to prepare for labour, to give birth to my child.

As I lay on the birthing pallet, the shaman’s hands pressed against my swollen belly, his assistant’s voice a soothing chant that seemed to echo through hut. The contractions were fierce, each wave tightening my womb like a vice, and I could feel the pup stirring restlessly, eager to emerge.

The contractions grew more intense, each one a relentless wave that squeezed the air from my lungs. I could feel the pup's movements becoming more frantic, as if it too sensed the nearing moment of our separation. The shaman's hands, warm and calloused, pressed firmly against my belly, guiding the process with a practiced ease. His chants intertwined with the assistant's, creating a rhythmic melody that seemed to pulse in time with my heartbeat. I gripped the edges of the birthing pallet, my knuckles white with tension, as a sharp pain shot through my lower back.

I felt like I was in labour for hours, the pain and and pressure in my lower abdomen surged forward, a primal **** that demanded release. With a guttural growl, I pushed, the sound echoing through the hut as the pup's head began to crown. The shaman's hands guided the movement, his voice rising in a crescendo of chants that seemed to pull the very life from me. Sweat dripped from my brow, soaking into the furs beneath me as I bore down, the pain and pressure blending into a singular, overwhelming sensation. Then, in a rush of fluid and life, the pup slid free, its first wail piercing the air.

The shaman bundled up the pup in blankets and handed me my child.

“A boy.” The shaman confirmed.

I looked at the pup in my arms, the child was a cute looking and small wolvir pup, with black fur that had red highlights in it. The pup’s eyes were scrunched tight, not fully understanding that he was just born.

“Fen and I agreed, that he would be named Lukos.” I told the shaman.

“A good name.” He told me. “And may he grow strong like his father.”