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She had been traveling all day - first by taxi to the bus depot, then on a bus out of town, and now here, deep in the forest after miles and miles of hiking. It would have been hard enough for even for the fittest of girls, but as a heavily-pregnant teen, the chihuahua-cross was having an especially difficult time. Her labor had started that morning, but Frankie knew her body well enough to know that she didn't need to rush. So far, each of her labors had been long, grueling affairs, each lasting the better part of a day, or longer. Even now, on the walk up, she was only getting a slight nagging soreness in her midsection every so often. But leaning against the tree and taking a break seemed to trigger something else, and after a particularly 'crampy' sensation she could feel a warmth spreading down her leg.\n\n\". . .fuck,\" she mumbled, looking down at the growing stain on her shorts, \"Now I'm gonna be tired AND wet! I hope you're happy, you little shit.\" She jabbed her belly with her finger, scolding the baby inside.\n\nLike most of Frankie's pregnancies, this baby was a \"commission\" of sorts from her friend Aaron Wells, an obstetrical nurse with unique tastes and a wide variety of side-hustles. This time, Aaron somehow got a hold of some eccentric logging tycoon who wanted a kid \"under the radar\", so Frankie was brought onboard as a surrogate. The delivery itself was to take place in one of the tycoon's off-grid cabins in the middle of nowhere, where the newborn could be conveniently \"found\" at a later date. That was the official job. Unofficially, Frankie was going to film the delivery as well as some \"activities\" with the newborn so that Aaron could sell the footage to some of his connections. Frankie got a cut, of course, but she would gladly do it for free - the chance to use and abuse some rich weirdo's newborn was too good to pass up.\n\nBy the time Frankie arrived at the cabin, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the stain on her leg had gone cold and was clinging to the fur on her thigh. She could feel the baby's head deep in her guts, and from time to time she almost thought she could feel it grinding against her pelvic bones. But each time she stopped to check with her fingers, she felt nothing.\n\nThe cabin itself was one story, and looked in poor shape. Wooden boards covered the windows, and the roof was green with moss. It was surrounded by trees and only steps away from a small river, deep enough to swim in but probably freezing cold. Frankie pulled the small key out from her backpack and slipped it into the lock. The knob turned with a click, and the door creaked open.\n\n\"Oh,\" Frankie mumbled, dropping her pack on the ground and looking around, \"You mean off-grid off-grid. Shit.\"\n\nThankfully, the inside of the cabin looked to be in slightly better shape, the boards on the windows protecting it from the elements. The singular room was H-shaped, with a kitchen to the far left and a large double-bed to the far right. On her immediate left was a table and chairs as well as a closed china cabinet with bowls, plates, cutlery and the like. To her close right was a sort of recreation and study space with a writing desk, wooden rocking chair, footstool, and a black bear rug covering the grubby wooden floor. Directly ahead was a wood stove with a flat surface for cooking. The place looked like a snapshot from a hundred years ago - no TV, no computer, no electronics of any kind could be seen - the only source of potential light she saw was an oil lamp hanging over the table, and she needed to light it soon if she wanted to see anything after the sun went down.\n\nA nagging tug in her belly reminded her that time was limited in other ways, too, and her wet leg wasn't getting any warmer.\n\n\"Shut up,\" she snapped back, prodding her belly again, \"We're gettin' there. But I need a soak before you start getting any bright ideas.\"\n\nFrankie lit the lamp, then pondered the wood stove. Fortunately for her, some kindling and firewood had been stockpiled ahead of time. She made a messy little fire and then made a few trips with the kettle to the river and back for water as the contractions got worse, then boiled the water and filled a wash basin that looked barely big enough for her. She then unpacked her bag while the water cooled, making sure everything was still in one piece. She had her phone, laptop and red hoodie - the three most important things in her life - plus a sleeping bag, plenty of jerky and trail mix in case she got stuck here for a while, plus a spare set of clothes and a towel. She also had a power bank for her phone (just in case!) and some unmarked, individually-packed pills from Aaron. She had no idea what the pills were, but Aaron said she could take one if the pain got too bad. So naturally, Frankie popped two in her mouth, stripped down, and then sank into the wash basin.\n\nEven though she felt like she was being folded in half, the steaming water melted her pain and cramps away. She closed her eyes and reached down between her legs, fingers sliding past her heart-shaped birthmark as well as the small tattoos that marked her previous five deliveries, then between her lower lips. No matter how deep she explored, there was no sign of a head down there yet. \n\n\"If you're backwards I'm gonna kick your ass,\" she warned, closing her eyes. Her fingers wandered in familiar patterns, rubbing along her sensitive skin as the canine reminisced on past adventures. It could have been the exhaustion, the hot water, or the pills, but each sensation felt fuzzy and far away, like a familiar song with the volume turned down way too low. Even certain memories were becoming harder to recall, and that was something Frankie never had trouble with. It only bothered her slightly, however, as everything became heavier and heavier, and she slipped into an exhausted, drug-induced slumber with her hand still between her legs.\n\nThe canine awoke to a barrage of sensations. First, she heard birdsong from outside. Second, she felt the chill of lukewarm water all around, and an enormous, heavy weight down in her groin, like she'd sat on a cannonball overnight. Lastly, she saw streaks of light streaming through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. She looked down and swished her hand through the tepid water to see the dome of a head between her legs, matted with dark brown hair.\n\n\"You sneaky little shit,\" Frankie scolded, \"Think you can just slip out while no one's looking?\" \n\nWith a grunt, she leaned over the side of the basin to fumble through her bag, and pulled out her phone to unlock it.\n\n\"Five percent?\" she gasped, staring at the red battery icon, \"fuck it, its enough for a few pics . . .\" She held her phone high to get a good angle of the head crowning underwater, then stuck out her tongue and threw up the horns with her free hand before snapping a few quick photos. She would have sent them to Aaron, but she was miles away from getting any reception. She pushed her free hand down under the water and spread her lips to try and expose more of the head, and took a few more pictures to be on the safe side. She could always go through them again later and delete any that didn't turn out. She slowly rolled around onto her side and tried to get a few shots from under her tail, a challenging angle where she could only barely see the phone's screen. She had no idea if this set was going to turn out, so she snapped a few more just in case, and kept taking pictures until she felt an urge to push.\n\nIt was a dull, nebulous sensation, but it was still unmistakable. It didn't burn as much as her previous deliveries and felt more spread out, like the need to bear down was coming from everywhere at once instead of being concentrated in one specific spot. She tried to work with it, seeing how easy or difficult this particular baby would be, and she could feel the massive head rubbing against her insides as it widened her birth canal by an almost imperceptibly small amount. This was going to take a while, she thought, and then the contraction surged into high gear.\n\n\"Oh, fuuuuck,\" she grunted, almost dropping her phone into the wash bin as she doubled over in pain, \"You can't do that! G-guh!\"\n\nIgnorant of what Frankie said could and could not be done, the baby's head slid further down, bulging further and further, threatening to come out on its own. \"No, no, no, no,\" Frankie warned, \"don't you fucking dare.\" \n\nShe refused to push, instead trying to 'blow away' the contraction by panting and huffing, an action that came very naturally to a canine like herself. The burning sensation lasted for only a matter of seconds before fading away, and then Frankie began a silent countdown in her head. She hoped that by timing the space between contractions she could figure how close this baby really was, or at least how long it would take before the last of her control would slip away and her reflexes would take over and eject the baby whether she wanted it or not. She compared it to counting the seconds between lightning and thunder to try and figure out how far away the storm was.\n\nAs she counted, she saw the baby's head slip back in, disappearing behind her stretched, tan-furred lips until only a sliver of darker brown fur remained. That was a relief, she thought. She got to a hundred and then stopped counting, figuring that two minutes or more was plenty of time to get her gear set up between contractions.\n\nWhen the next contraction surged, she was ready. She panted feverishly, letting her mouth hang open. Her petite breasts bobbed up and down with each quick huff, the frantic breathing occasionally punctuated by a long, slow exhale where it felt like she was deflating like an old balloon. She watched between her legs with an expectant grin as the head slowly became more visible, then slipped back in once more. \n\n\"That's . . .right . . .fucker,\" Frankie heaved, \"You're not . . . going . . . anywhere!\"\n\nWhen the contraction subsided, Frankie got straight to work. She grabbed her phone again and lifted one leg up to step out of the basin, taking pictures the entire time, and then stood up with great difficulty. The head between her thighs was making her stand bow-legged, even though most of it was still inside.\n\nShe bent over and fumbled through her bag. She quickly found her towel, dried her hands then tossed it over her shoulders before continuing to rummage through the bag for her laptop. She pulled it out and opened it up, then pressed the little power button only to be greeted with a blank screen and a strange grinding noise.\n\n\"What the fuck?\" Frankie asked earnestly. As if responding to her question, the blackness was replaced by a purple error screen and a message in bold black text beside a defeated-looking imp, the mascot of the company that made her computer.\n\nTriskelionOS has encountered a fatal error and needs to restart. Press any key to continue. . .\n\nFrankie tapped a key and narrowed her eyes in frustration. Maybe this was a one-of thing, she thought, but even if it was, it was already costing her precious time. The screen faded to black again as her computer restarted, then had the audacity to display a second error message about not shutting down properly.\n\n\"I know I didn't shut down properly you piece of shit,\" she swore, dismissing the message, \"Start up already!\"\n\nA loading bar appeared on the screen and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief, before her breath caught and a third error message appeared, with the same purple background and impy mascot, this time giving her a very long string of letters and numbers and something about a missing or corrupted file. \n\n\"I don't give a shit!\" Frankie shouted in frustration, \"Just start up! C'mon! You mother f-nngh!\"\n\nFrankie's tirade was interrupted by a contraction, catching her off-guard. She instinctively grunted and held her breath, allowing the massive head to slip out that much further before she caught herself. She couldn't let the head come out yet, she thought, she needed to get that on video, and all her recording and editing software was on her laptop. She could use her phone in a pinch, but she was running out of battery almost as fast as she was running out of patience. She tried to pant through the current contraction, but her breathing was staggered and uneasy. She wasn't ready, and the frustration of being taken by surprise was making it hard to focus. \"You're . . . gonna regret this . . . you little shit,\" she threatened, \"Just wait till . . . I get my hands on . . . you!\"\n\nThat gave her an idea. She reached down between her legs and physically held the head of the baby in place, refusing to let it budge even a hair even as every fiber of her being was screaming at her to push it out.\n\nThankfully, she only had to hold that pose for a few moments before the contraction subsided. She pulled out her phone again and took a few more pictures of herself, covered only loosely by the towel, head half-out between her legs, hunched over her laptop. Some perverted basement-dwellers would get a kick out of that, she thought, a teen working tech support in the middle of delivering a baby.\n\nShe turned off the laptop and waited a few moments, anticipating another contraction, and then turned it back on again. To her dismay, the same purple error screen appeared.\n\n\"What the fuck?!\" Frankie slammed her fist down on the wooden floor. She had a pretty good idea how to fix the issue, but she had neither the time nor the tools to follow through. This baby was coming now and she needed 'video proof of delivery' as part of her commission. She frantically checked her phone. The battery was almost gone, but she didn't think she would have a chance to search for her power pack before the next contraction hit.\n\n\"Fuck it,\" she huffed, spreading her legs and staring at her naked reflection in the purple error screen as she held up her phone to record . . . and pushed.\n\nIt felt good to go along with her body's urges, Frankie thought as she let herself get swept away in maternal instinct. But as much as her body needed this baby out, it was just too big. It felt like it should just pop loose, but instead it sat there like a boulder, unwilling to budge. \"Come on you fucker,\" Frankie cursed through clenched teeth, \"[i]Move![/i]\" \n\nHer grip on her phone was so tight she was almost afraid she was going to snap it in half. She took a deep breath and pushed again, harder this time, unable and unwilling to rest even for a moment. She grabbed the back of her knees, made sure her phone was still recording, and pushed one more time, finally feeling the head rub against her pelvis. There was no pop, no gush of fluid, just a slow, grinding progression as the baby's forehead emerged, followed by its eyes, ears, and a massive nose. \"You're fuckin' kidding me,\" she gasped, staring in disbelief at her reflecting in the laptop screen with just how much of this baby's head was still inside of her. She quickly glanced up at her phone. She saw a flashing red battery symbol and snarled. \"I didn't carry your ass for nine months and change just for you to dig in your fucking heels while my battery dies! Fuck you!\" She screamed obscenities at the baby, her phone and her laptop loudly enough to scare away the birds outside. Finally, the chin squeaked out and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she gasped for breath.\n\nWhen she finally checked her phone, she was greeted with a black screen. She crossed her fingers and hope she at least got the good bits before the battery died. But now at least the hardest part was over, she thought, and she could take a moment to dig through her bag for the power bank. But first, she took a little longer to gaze at her reflection in the dead phone. The head nestled between her legs was enormous, covered in brown fur. Its face was wrinkled and compressed, its eyes scrunched between its cheeks and its forehead. Clear, viscous fluid drooled slowly out of its wide nose. When she rolled her hips, she could see two large, pointed ears pushed tightly against the sides of its head. It was a cervine, she figured, but it was too big to be a common deer. She guessed that she had been carrying something much larger and more exotic, like an elk or a moose, or even a caribou. She reached down and nonchalantly pulled one of the baby's ears free and leaned over as far as she could. \"If I didn't get that on film,\" she whispered, holding the ear outstretched, \"you're gonna regret it.\"\n\nIt was a strangely intimate moment for Frankie, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the lack of observation in the cabin. Her phone was dead and her computer was broken. For once in her life, she didn't feel like she was being watched. It was just her and this massive, half-born baby in the early morning light, in a decrepit cabin in the middle of nowhere. It made her uncomfortable - she was literally born on camera, after all - and she was used to being surrounded by foster siblings, crowds of anonymous people, or ephemeral online presences. She needed to find that power bank sooner rather than later, but the baby wasn't cooperating. It needed out, and Frankie could feel it kicking and squirming inside of her as it struggled to find a position that would allow it to be born easier.\n\n\"No!\" Frankie replied, holding the head in place as soon as she felt another contraction creeping up, \"Just hold on you impatient little fuckwad!\" She rolled back and screamed, half in pain and half in ecstasy, fighting against her body to keep the baby inside.\n\nWhen the contraction finally subsided, she took a moment to collect herself and then, with great effort, rolled onto all fours and grabbed her pack. She rummaged through it with a sort of exhausted urgency, feeling the baby's heavy head rubbing between her legs before giving up and dumping the whole thing on the floor and tossing the empty bag weakly over her shoulder. She eventually found the power bank and charging cable in the pocket of her hoodie. It was a small, rose-gold device about as wide as a deck of cards but only half as thick. \"Thank fuck,\" she sighed, and then plugged the device's cord into her phone. Immediately, the phone's screen lit up with a green battery icon, indicating that it was charging properly. \n\nFrankie let out a little cheer as she unlocked her phone, and then quickly opened the front-facing camera. She reached behind her to snap a few pics of the baby's head then quickly reviewed them. The baby was massive, and was facing her tail. She could make out pudgy little lips and a big wide nose, and tightly-closed eyes squished by a massive forehead and chubby cheeks. She tried to pick herself up using the wash basin for support, and snapped a few more pictures leaning over the side, then turned around for a few provocative full-frontal shots. She kept taking pictures as a contraction crashed over her, the canine struggling to hold the baby in place with one hand while holding the camera with the other, even as the baby squirmed and writhed inside her, rubbing against sensitive internal parts. \"Y-you're starting to turn me on, you little shit,\" she warned between pictures, \"I hope you can f-finish what you started!\"\n\nAfter the contraction faded away, Frankie knew she needed to get ready to record the rest of the delivery. She had been fighting with the baby for so long that she thought it was bound to just slide out after a few more pushes - it probably would have slid out already if she hadn't been trying to push it back in. She rolled over again and crawled towards the rocking chair, feeling the head wobble between her legs with every movement, and then set the camera on the floor, leaning up against the leg of the desk. She opened the front camera again and started recording, now that the power bank was hooked up and she didn't have to worry about draining her battery.\n\nShe waved to the camera with a toothy grin before turning around to the rocking chair and leaning against it for support. After making sure the camera had a good angle, looking up at the action, she wagged her tail from side to side, letting it brush over the baby's wet, sticky face. When the next contraction came she arched her back and let out a low, guttural moan. Finally, she didn't have to hold back anymore. She could use all her strength to push this baby out instead of holding it in. She expected it to fall right out and onto the rug, but . . . nothing happened. The massive head didn't budge. She pushed again, bearing her pointed teeth and pulling her tail to the side, but it was like she was pushing against a brick wall. She wasn't holding the baby in anymore, but something was keeping it from coming out. \n\n\"Aw, fuck,\" Frankie sighed breathlessly, looking back at the camera to make sure it was still recording, \"c'mon, you little shit.\" She leaned over to one side and started fumbling between her legs, fingers exploring around the baby's chin and the back of its neck to see if there was something caught. She couldn't feel a cord anywhere, so the problem must have been deeper inside, and that was going to be a lot harder to fix. She kept her hand there as another contraction quickly began to build, sliding her fingers around the stretched skin between her legs to try and coax something out. \"OooooOOOOOH!\" she whined as the pain continued to mount even through the effects of the medication. She was in big trouble if it was wearing off, she thought.\n\nDesperate to mitigate the pain, Frankie let her tail drop and pushed her fingers down towards her clit, right under the back of the baby's head. She let out a small yelp as her claws made contact - the skin was so stretched that each touch was a sharp mixture of pleasure and pain, like an electric shock. She tried to push the skin back, around the baby's shoulder or whatever it was, but she felt like she couldn't possibly stretch any further. She circled her fingers around the baby's head, trying to find some place she could worm her way in, then leaned fully on the chair and used both hands to try and turn the baby's shoulders, or head, or something, anything, before another contraction crashed though her body. The baby's shoulders jammed against her fingers so hard she could have sworn they were about to break. She howled in pain, pulling her fingers slowly out and fumbling desperately to reposition the baby from outside until the contraction ebbed away, leaving her breathless and panting once again.\n\nThis was way more difficult than any of her previous deliveries. Not only did this baby feel bigger than anything she had ever carried before, but it felt completely stuck, and she was all alone this time with no way of getting help. \n\n\"C'mon,\" she pleaded, \"I was just kidding about the 'regret it' stuff.\"\n\nBetween contractions, she tried to change position and lift one leg up, like she was starting a race. It felt like something down there shifted, and with a renewed vigor she fumbled around under her tail with one hand and supported herself with the other, occasionally looking back to admire the view in the camera from underneath. At the very least, the change of position seemed to allow her slightly more space to work. She found she could get at least one finger in around the baby's bony shoulder, two if she really tried to relax. It would have to be enough, she thought, and she pushed the shoulder as far around as she could before she felt another contraction begin to well up from her core. She gave a halfhearted push, and then let out a throaty grunt as the baby moved ever so slightly. She looked behind her to see her reflection in the phone's camera again, then let out a guttural, feral howl as she pushed in earnest. One advantage of giving birth in the middle of nowhere, she thought to herself, was not having to worry about drawing attention. She could scream as loud as she wanted and no one would ever know.\n\nThe unborn baby felt like it moved only a tiny bit, and she couldn't see any progress when she turned around to look, but it was enough to encourage her to keep going. She continued pushing until the contraction petered out, then sank into the chair and panted heavily. \"You're . . . you're really fuckin' makin' me work for it, aren'tcha?\" \n\nShe waited for the next contraction without moving, and then let out another high-pitched shriek as the sudden, sharp pain ripped through her without warning. It was much sooner than she expected, and hurt far more than she was prepared for. It wasn't burning anymore so much as blinding, a white-hot sensation that drowned out absolutely everything else. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she could barely even think, all she could do was push. She didn't know how long the sensation lasted, all she knew was that when she regained her senses and looked behind her, one of the baby's gargantuan shoulders was starting to peek out from under her tail. She let out a huff of relief, and then she realized that she couldn't actually remember the last minute or so. It was a deeply unsettling sensation, she remembered everything. She at least had the video to play back and fill in the gap later, she thought. \"You're gonna make me go feral,\" she accused the emerging baby, \"you little shit.\" \n\nBefore the next spasm of pain took over, she reached down between her legs to press down on her clit, trying to balance out the overwhelming pain with even the slightest hint of pleasure. It worked somewhat, but she was still reduced to a yelping, whining mess when the next contraction hit. She pushed her face into the rocking chair and shrieked, her fingers pushing, hooking, tugging and scrabbling between her legs as if they had a mind of their own. She quickly found a clumsy rhythm of rubbing and pushing, but still she felt like she was fighting to stay in control.\n\n\"Fffffuck,\" she groaned as she felt the baby's shoulder underneath her fingers. She rubbed the pads of her fingers in small circles, pushing down firmly and gritting her teeth. It was like the baby's collarbone was rubbing her back from the inside, and if she applied just the right sort of pressure, she could almost work with the baby to rub exactly the right spots. \"Ffffuck,\" she groaned again, this time breathy with anticipation as a contraction crept up, squeezing the baby in her birth canal and increasing the pressure even further. \n\n\"Oh . . . oh fuck,\" she cursed a third time, realizing what was about to happen. She abandoned the idea of running her fingers in circles and started rubbing them rapidly back and forth, trying to arch her back to make sure the camera could see what she was doing. She felt a warm rush just as the contraction peaked, and she screamed so loud she would have rattled the windows if there were any left. Her unconventional efforts were rewarded with the slightest movement from the baby, barely an inch, but enough to unlock she second shoulder and slowly squeeze it out as Frankie collapsed onto the chair, heaving and huffing, tongue outstretched like a common mutt. \"I . . . I think I just came,\" she thought out loud, her voice a mixture of exhaustion, ecstasy, and surprise. \"You little fuck, you just made me cum!\" She felt warm and fuzzy all over, even her vision was slightly blurred. An orgasm was obviously nothing new to the canine, but she'd never experienced a sensation so all-consuming. It frightened her a little, and then made her angry. She hated that feeling of powerlessness, and it was all this baby's fault. \"You're gonna pay for that,\" she threatened.\n\nPart of her hoped the baby would just slide out now that the other shoulder was free, but unfortunately Frankie had no such luck - this baby seemed intent on making her fight for every inch of progress. At least now the worst of it seemed like it was over. Frankie considered just letting the baby grind slowly out, but quickly decided she wanted to take back control and play a more active role. She looked between her legs and down at the phone. It was still on the floor leaning against the desk, the red light still staring up at her and recording her progress.\n\nThe baby had turned slightly to the left, the shoulders lining up more with the angle of Frankie's hips. She could just grab it and pull, she thought, but she didn't want to obscure the camera's view in any way. There were no second chances if her hands blocked a perfect angle. Instead, she slowly rolled over onto her right side and pulled her left leg up to her chest, allowing the phone an unobstructed view of the baby's head and face. Its features were slightly less scrunched, and she could see the baby's big eyes still closed, shimmering trails of thick fluid draining from its nose and mouth, and two big floppy, sticky ears that wobbled every time she moved. \"Say cheese you little fuckwad,\" she grumbled as she took a deep breath and pushed, watching with satisfaction as the baby's upper body was squeezed out little by little, more and more slimy brown fur exposed to the chill cabin air. Thick gobs of fluid landed on the bear rug below her as one arm slipped out and flopped beside the baby's head, dangling almost to the ground. Frankie took a deep breath and pushed again. There was no point in timing her contractions anymore, they were coming so fast she felt they were almost stacking up on top of each other. So she pushed, and pushed, and pushed until another arm gushed out, followed by a thick, curly umbilical cord that seemed to unravel over the baby's slimy chest. \n\nAnd then progress stopped. Frankie pushed, but once again it felt like she was hitting a wall. \"Seriously?!\" she exclaimed. The baby's entire upper body was out, and she could clearly its eyes start to blink open, still gummy with fluid. It was starting to stretch its arms and fingers slightly, exploring this new open space. \"Give up,\" she pleaded, \"You're basically out already! Why can't you just fucking cooperate?\"\n\nAgain, she was tempted to just grab the baby and yank, but she was determined to force it out without \"cheating\" as so not to ruin the footage. \"Fine,\" she snorted, and slowly began to roll over onto her other side. The baby's arms flailed aimlessly and grasped at the empty air as its mother turned, until it was hanging down with its back to the camera. Frankie pulled her leg up to her armpit and wrapped her arm around the underside of her knee to spread her thighs as wide as possible. She grit her teeth and pushed, feeling the baby's hips shift ever so slightly. This was it, she thought, and she took a deep breath then pushed with all her might. The baby's hips emerged slowly at first, then there was a sensation like someone pulling out a drain stopper as the baby finally spilled out in its entirety, somersaulting onto the bearskin rug and landing with a wet plop on its back before being drenched in the remainder of amniotic fluid. The newborn grunted from the impact and then let out a wet cry, kicking its feet out in all directions. \n\nFrankie collapsed. She felt empty and exhausted, but accomplished. She managed to summon the strength to turn and look at both the newborn and the camera. The bearskin rug was ruined, matted with mucus and fluid. The newborn was huge, easily dwarfing all the other cubs she carried. It was almost positively a moose, she thought, judging from the long limbs, wide nose and sticky milk-chocolate fur. It was also definitely a boy, she saw, the newborn's aimless flailing giving her - and the camera - a gratuitous view of his little velvet sac and proud, bouncing erection.\n\n\"I win, fucker,\" she cackled weakly. She looked down at the wailing newborn, and then at the camera with a tired, victorious grin. She stuck out her tongue and threw up the horns at the camera, her grin widening as she realized that the \"official\" footage for Aaron's client would probably be cut there. Now she could have fun.\n\n\"I can't believe I gave birth to such a little pervert,\" she growled, lowering a bare footpaw onto the baby's chest. He was warm and wet under her sole, and she could feel his chest heaving with every noisy breath he took. She slid her foot down to his groin and rubbed his little erection back and forth between her claws. \"Don't lose that,\" she grinned, \"I'm gonna need it. But first I have to make sure you don't have a sister or something hiding in there!\" With one foot still planted firmly on the newborn's groin, she bent her other leg up onto the side of the chair and pushed two fingers up between her legs alongside the slimy umbilical cord before adding a third digit.\n\n\"That's the shit,\" she sighed amorously as she pushed her fingers in deeper, sliding them around her swollen, gaping birth canal with a messy squelching sound. \"This is what you wanted, right?\" She inched closer to the newborn, bracing her other foot on the ground as so not to crush him underfoot. \"It wasn't so bad when you were still in me, huh? Now you're naked on camera, exposed for everyone to see! And they're all gonna see what a big perv you are!\" The newborn cried in protest, still squirming on his back.\n\nShe slid her foot up and down on the baby boy's groin again just to try and keep him hard, then moved her foot away to kneel over his face. \"Like what you see, ya horny little fucker?\" She bit her lip and dug her fingers in deeper, her birth canal stretched so wide the canine was almost fisting herself. It didn't take long before she peaked again, but this time it was a wave of sweet release under her own control. Warm fluid sprayed and dribbled from between her legs, coming in waves and gushes, further soaking the bearskin rug and splattering over the newborn's face, turning his constant wailing into a fit of wet coughing and sputtering. \"That's right, thirsty boy,\" Frankie teased threateningly, \"drink up - and clean up your mess!\" She lowered herself down and started grinding her nethers over the newborn's mouth and nose, smearing his brown fur with more of her juices until he started to gasp for breath.\n\nFortunately, the canine had no intention of torturing the poor cervine. After a few pitiful coughs she pulled him out from under her by the leg and dangled him upside-down in front of the camera until he started to cry properly again.\n\n\"Aww, you went soft on me,\" Frankie huffed, seeing the image of the newborn's now-flaccid member on the camera screen, \"don't tell me you're not interested anymore!\" She clumsily flipped him into her arms and fumbled him onto her lap as she shuffled back onto the stained rocking chair with noticeable effort. She was trying to keep as much of herself and the baby onscreen as possible, but she was exhausted and the baby was slippery and squirming all over. She eventually got him more or less to hold still by folding his legs up to his chest and keeping his tailhole and boy bits exposed to the camera. With her other hand, she started rubbing her finger around his virgin tailhole before squeezing her fingertip just barely inside. \n\n\"There ya go, you like that, don'tcha?\" she teased with a toothy grin, twisting her finger inside his bottom as he squirmed in her grip. \"I'm pretty sure you're a bottom,\" she guessed, \"I've met a lot of boys in my time, you start to get a feel for these things after a while, y'know?\" The cub's member throbbed to life slowly as she molested him, right before he released a stream of clear urine onto the already-disheveled rug.\n\n\"Oh that poor bear,\" Frankie mused, \"Such an undignified end!\"\n\nAs soon as the newborn's member was satisfyingly firm, Frankie pulled her finger slowly out from his cheeks and slid it along his bottom, giving his rump a playful squeeze before sliding up between his legs to squeeze his little coin purse, too.\n\n\"How does it feel,\" Frankie teased, taking the baby's member in the palm of her hand and rubbing gently back and forth, \"Not so eager when the shoe's on the other foot, are ya? I'm in control now, you little shit!\" The boy's member was soft and pleasingly plump in her hand, girthier than she expected for a body so small, but nothing like that donkey kid a few years back. She would be lucky if she ever found a stallion like that again, she remember fondly. Still, size didn't matter much to Frankie - big or small, she used them all. This chubby moose boy was no exception. She slid her hand back and forth across his slimy parts, pulling the foreskin back and finding the shaft and head slippery and matted with all sorts of slime already. She could feel his little legs tense up, and watched his toes flex and curl in on the camera before his fat little member throbbed and pumped in her grip, expressing nothing but the last few drops of pee which trailed along the shaft and into Frankie's palm. \"That was it?\" she laughed, \"Oh god, you're too easy. Someone is either going to be very happy or very disappointed in you when you get older.\" She quickly wiped her hand off on his belly, but was instantly reminded that he wasn't anywhere near clean and dry yet - his body was still slimy and matted with all manner of fluids and excretions. \"God, you're a messy little fucker,\" she cursed, continuing to stroke his reddened, overstimulated shaft. She didn't think she could actually get him to climax again, but it was never about him to begin with. She just fondled and felt, grinning for the camera, putting on a show and listening to him squeal until she felt something resembling a contraction, building up again after so long.\n\nFortunately, this contraction was only an echo of the ones that came before, a mildly irritating ache that allowed the heavy placenta to slither out like an underfilled water balloon. \"There ya go, fucker,\" she huffed with satisfaction, \"You're free. Have fun!\" She squeezed his little sack lightly and then placed him down on the soiled rug on his back and started to gather her things. But first, before putting everything back in her bag again, she unplugged her phone from the battery pack and snapped a picture of her and the naked moose baby with her shoulder covering up most of his body. She stuck out her tongue for the camera again and this time stuck up her middle finger at the lens before snapping the picture.\n\nShe swaddled the boy in a blanket from the bed and set him on the table as a sort of centerpiece, then left once her bag was packed without cleaning up any of the mess. That wasn't part of her commission, and it wasn't like this weird businessman would call in and complain.\n\nAs soon as she got back into an area with reception with the sound of the crying baby far behind her, she sent the last picture she took to Aaron along with a three-word text message: \"I lived, bitch\"", "writing_bbcode_parsed": ""You weren't fucking kidding when you said this cabin was remote," Frankie huffed to no one in particular as she set her pack down and leaned against a tree. She had been traveling all day - first by taxi to the bus depot, then on a bus out of town, and now here, deep in the forest after miles and miles of hiking. It would have been hard enough for even for the fittest of girls, but as a heavily-pregnant teen, the chihuahua-cross was having an especially difficult time. Her labor had started that morning, but Frankie knew her body well enough to know that she didn't need to rush. So far, each of her labors had been long, grueling affairs, each lasting the better part of a day, or longer. Even now, on the walk up, she was only getting a slight nagging soreness in her midsection every so often. But leaning against the tree and taking a break seemed to trigger something else, and after a particularly 'crampy' sensation she could feel a warmth spreading down her leg.

". . .fuck," she mumbled, looking down at the growing stain on her shorts, "Now I'm gonna be tired AND wet! I hope you're happy, you little shit." She jabbed her belly with her finger, scolding the baby inside.

Like most of Frankie's pregnancies, this baby was a "commission" of sorts from her friend Aaron Wells, an obstetrical nurse with unique tastes and a wide variety of side-hustles. This time, Aaron somehow got a hold of some eccentric logging tycoon who wanted a kid "under the radar", so Frankie was brought onboard as a surrogate. The delivery itself was to take place in one of the tycoon's off-grid cabins in the middle of nowhere, where the newborn could be conveniently "found" at a later date. That was the official job. Unofficially, Frankie was going to film the delivery as well as some "activities" with the newborn so that Aaron could sell the footage to some of his connections. Frankie got a cut, of course, but she would gladly do it for free - the chance to use and abuse some rich weirdo's newborn was too good to pass up.

By the time Frankie arrived at the cabin, the sun had already dipped below the horizon and the stain on her leg had gone cold and was clinging to the fur on her thigh. She could feel the baby's head deep in her guts, and from time to time she almost thought she could feel it grinding against her pelvic bones. But each time she stopped to check with her fingers, she felt nothing.

The cabin itself was one story, and looked in poor shape. Wooden boards covered the windows, and the roof was green with moss. It was surrounded by trees and only steps away from a small river, deep enough to swim in but probably freezing cold. Frankie pulled the small key out from her backpack and slipped it into the lock. The knob turned with a click, and the door creaked open.

"Oh," Frankie mumbled, dropping her pack on the ground and looking around, "You mean off-grid off-grid. Shit."

Thankfully, the inside of the cabin looked to be in slightly better shape, the boards on the windows protecting it from the elements. The singular room was H-shaped, with a kitchen to the far left and a large double-bed to the far right. On her immediate left was a table and chairs as well as a closed china cabinet with bowls, plates, cutlery and the like. To her close right was a sort of recreation and study space with a writing desk, wooden rocking chair, footstool, and a black bear rug covering the grubby wooden floor. Directly ahead was a wood stove with a flat surface for cooking. The place looked like a snapshot from a hundred years ago - no TV, no computer, no electronics of any kind could be seen - the only source of potential light she saw was an oil lamp hanging over the table, and she needed to light it soon if she wanted to see anything after the sun went down.

A nagging tug in her belly reminded her that time was limited in other ways, too, and her wet leg wasn't getting any warmer.

"Shut up," she snapped back, prodding her belly again, "We're gettin' there. But I need a soak before you start getting any bright ideas."

Frankie lit the lamp, then pondered the wood stove. Fortunately for her, some kindling and firewood had been stockpiled ahead of time. She made a messy little fire and then made a few trips with the kettle to the river and back for water as the contractions got worse, then boiled the water and filled a wash basin that looked barely big enough for her. She then unpacked her bag while the water cooled, making sure everything was still in one piece. She had her phone, laptop and red hoodie - the three most important things in her life - plus a sleeping bag, plenty of jerky and trail mix in case she got stuck here for a while, plus a spare set of clothes and a towel. She also had a power bank for her phone (just in case!) and some unmarked, individually-packed pills from Aaron. She had no idea what the pills were, but Aaron said she could take one if the pain got too bad. So naturally, Frankie popped two in her mouth, stripped down, and then sank into the wash basin.

Even though she felt like she was being folded in half, the steaming water melted her pain and cramps away. She closed her eyes and reached down between her legs, fingers sliding past her heart-shaped birthmark as well as the small tattoos that marked her previous five deliveries, then between her lower lips. No matter how deep she explored, there was no sign of a head down there yet.

"If you're backwards I'm gonna kick your ass," she warned, closing her eyes. Her fingers wandered in familiar patterns, rubbing along her sensitive skin as the canine reminisced on past adventures. It could have been the exhaustion, the hot water, or the pills, but each sensation felt fuzzy and far away, like a familiar song with the volume turned down way too low. Even certain memories were becoming harder to recall, and that was something Frankie never had trouble with. It only bothered her slightly, however, as everything became heavier and heavier, and she slipped into an exhausted, drug-induced slumber with her hand still between her legs.

The canine awoke to a barrage of sensations. First, she heard birdsong from outside. Second, she felt the chill of lukewarm water all around, and an enormous, heavy weight down in her groin, like she'd sat on a cannonball overnight. Lastly, she saw streaks of light streaming through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. She looked down and swished her hand through the tepid water to see the dome of a head between her legs, matted with dark brown hair.

"You sneaky little shit," Frankie scolded, "Think you can just slip out while no one's looking?"

With a grunt, she leaned over the side of the basin to fumble through her bag, and pulled out her phone to unlock it.

"Five percent?" she gasped, staring at the red battery icon, "fuck it, its enough for a few pics . . ." She held her phone high to get a good angle of the head crowning underwater, then stuck out her tongue and threw up the horns with her free hand before snapping a few quick photos. She would have sent them to Aaron, but she was miles away from getting any reception. She pushed her free hand down under the water and spread her lips to try and expose more of the head, and took a few more pictures to be on the safe side. She could always go through them again later and delete any that didn't turn out. She slowly rolled around onto her side and tried to get a few shots from under her tail, a challenging angle where she could only barely see the phone's screen. She had no idea if this set was going to turn out, so she snapped a few more just in case, and kept taking pictures until she felt an urge to push.

It was a dull, nebulous sensation, but it was still unmistakable. It didn't burn as much as her previous deliveries and felt more spread out, like the need to bear down was coming from everywhere at once instead of being concentrated in one specific spot. She tried to work with it, seeing how easy or difficult this particular baby would be, and she could feel the massive head rubbing against her insides as it widened her birth canal by an almost imperceptibly small amount. This was going to take a while, she thought, and then the contraction surged into high gear.

"Oh, fuuuuck," she grunted, almost dropping her phone into the wash bin as she doubled over in pain, "You can't do that! G-guh!"

Ignorant of what Frankie said could and could not be done, the baby's head slid further down, bulging further and further, threatening to come out on its own. "No, no, no, no," Frankie warned, "don't you fucking dare."

She refused to push, instead trying to 'blow away' the contraction by panting and huffing, an action that came very naturally to a canine like herself. The burning sensation lasted for only a matter of seconds before fading away, and then Frankie began a silent countdown in her head. She hoped that by timing the space between contractions she could figure how close this baby really was, or at least how long it would take before the last of her control would slip away and her reflexes would take over and eject the baby whether she wanted it or not. She compared it to counting the seconds between lightning and thunder to try and figure out how far away the storm was.

As she counted, she saw the baby's head slip back in, disappearing behind her stretched, tan-furred lips until only a sliver of darker brown fur remained. That was a relief, she thought. She got to a hundred and then stopped counting, figuring that two minutes or more was plenty of time to get her gear set up between contractions.

When the next contraction surged, she was ready. She panted feverishly, letting her mouth hang open. Her petite breasts bobbed up and down with each quick huff, the frantic breathing occasionally punctuated by a long, slow exhale where it felt like she was deflating like an old balloon. She watched between her legs with an expectant grin as the head slowly became more visible, then slipped back in once more.

"That's . . .right . . .fucker," Frankie heaved, "You're not . . . going . . . anywhere!"

When the contraction subsided, Frankie got straight to work. She grabbed her phone again and lifted one leg up to step out of the basin, taking pictures the entire time, and then stood up with great difficulty. The head between her thighs was making her stand bow-legged, even though most of it was still inside.

She bent over and fumbled through her bag. She quickly found her towel, dried her hands then tossed it over her shoulders before continuing to rummage through the bag for her laptop. She pulled it out and opened it up, then pressed the little power button only to be greeted with a blank screen and a strange grinding noise.

"What the fuck?" Frankie asked earnestly. As if responding to her question, the blackness was replaced by a purple error screen and a message in bold black text beside a defeated-looking imp, the mascot of the company that made her computer.

TriskelionOS has encountered a fatal error and needs to restart. Press any key to continue. . .

Frankie tapped a key and narrowed her eyes in frustration. Maybe this was a one-of thing, she thought, but even if it was, it was already costing her precious time. The screen faded to black again as her computer restarted, then had the audacity to display a second error message about not shutting down properly.

"I know I didn't shut down properly you piece of shit," she swore, dismissing the message, "Start up already!"

A loading bar appeared on the screen and Frankie breathed a sigh of relief, before her breath caught and a third error message appeared, with the same purple background and impy mascot, this time giving her a very long string of letters and numbers and something about a missing or corrupted file.

"I don't give a shit!" Frankie shouted in frustration, "Just start up! C'mon! You mother f-nngh!"

Frankie's tirade was interrupted by a contraction, catching her off-guard. She instinctively grunted and held her breath, allowing the massive head to slip out that much further before she caught herself. She couldn't let the head come out yet, she thought, she needed to get that on video, and all her recording and editing software was on her laptop. She could use her phone in a pinch, but she was running out of battery almost as fast as she was running out of patience. She tried to pant through the current contraction, but her breathing was staggered and uneasy. She wasn't ready, and the frustration of being taken by surprise was making it hard to focus. "You're . . . gonna regret this . . . you little shit," she threatened, "Just wait till . . . I get my hands on . . . you!"

That gave her an idea. She reached down between her legs and physically held the head of the baby in place, refusing to let it budge even a hair even as every fiber of her being was screaming at her to push it out.

Thankfully, she only had to hold that pose for a few moments before the contraction subsided. She pulled out her phone again and took a few more pictures of herself, covered only loosely by the towel, head half-out between her legs, hunched over her laptop. Some perverted basement-dwellers would get a kick out of that, she thought, a teen working tech support in the middle of delivering a baby.

She turned off the laptop and waited a few moments, anticipating another contraction, and then turned it back on again. To her dismay, the same purple error screen appeared.

"What the fuck?!" Frankie slammed her fist down on the wooden floor. She had a pretty good idea how to fix the issue, but she had neither the time nor the tools to follow through. This baby was coming now and she needed 'video proof of delivery' as part of her commission. She frantically checked her phone. The battery was almost gone, but she didn't think she would have a chance to search for her power pack before the next contraction hit.

"Fuck it," she huffed, spreading her legs and staring at her naked reflection in the purple error screen as she held up her phone to record . . . and pushed.

It felt good to go along with her body's urges, Frankie thought as she let herself get swept away in maternal instinct. But as much as her body needed this baby out, it was just too big. It felt like it should just pop loose, but instead it sat there like a boulder, unwilling to budge. "Come on you fucker," Frankie cursed through clenched teeth, "Move!"

Her grip on her phone was so tight she was almost afraid she was going to snap it in half. She took a deep breath and pushed again, harder this time, unable and unwilling to rest even for a moment. She grabbed the back of her knees, made sure her phone was still recording, and pushed one more time, finally feeling the head rub against her pelvis. There was no pop, no gush of fluid, just a slow, grinding progression as the baby's forehead emerged, followed by its eyes, ears, and a massive nose. "You're fuckin' kidding me," she gasped, staring in disbelief at her reflecting in the laptop screen with just how much of this baby's head was still inside of her. She quickly glanced up at her phone. She saw a flashing red battery symbol and snarled. "I didn't carry your ass for nine months and change just for you to dig in your fucking heels while my battery dies! Fuck you!" She screamed obscenities at the baby, her phone and her laptop loudly enough to scare away the birds outside. Finally, the chin squeaked out and she collapsed in a heap on the floor, tongue lolling out of her mouth as she gasped for breath.

When she finally checked her phone, she was greeted with a black screen. She crossed her fingers and hope she at least got the good bits before the battery died. But now at least the hardest part was over, she thought, and she could take a moment to dig through her bag for the power bank. But first, she took a little longer to gaze at her reflection in the dead phone. The head nestled between her legs was enormous, covered in brown fur. Its face was wrinkled and compressed, its eyes scrunched between its cheeks and its forehead. Clear, viscous fluid drooled slowly out of its wide nose. When she rolled her hips, she could see two large, pointed ears pushed tightly against the sides of its head. It was a cervine, she figured, but it was too big to be a common deer. She guessed that she had been carrying something much larger and more exotic, like an elk or a moose, or even a caribou. She reached down and nonchalantly pulled one of the baby's ears free and leaned over as far as she could. "If I didn't get that on film," she whispered, holding the ear outstretched, "you're gonna regret it."

It was a strangely intimate moment for Frankie, and she was suddenly acutely aware of the lack of observation in the cabin. Her phone was dead and her computer was broken. For once in her life, she didn't feel like she was being watched. It was just her and this massive, half-born baby in the early morning light, in a decrepit cabin in the middle of nowhere. It made her uncomfortable - she was literally born on camera, after all - and she was used to being surrounded by foster siblings, crowds of anonymous people, or ephemeral online presences. She needed to find that power bank sooner rather than later, but the baby wasn't cooperating. It needed out, and Frankie could feel it kicking and squirming inside of her as it struggled to find a position that would allow it to be born easier.

"No!" Frankie replied, holding the head in place as soon as she felt another contraction creeping up, "Just hold on you impatient little fuckwad!" She rolled back and screamed, half in pain and half in ecstasy, fighting against her body to keep the baby inside.

When the contraction finally subsided, she took a moment to collect herself and then, with great effort, rolled onto all fours and grabbed her pack. She rummaged through it with a sort of exhausted urgency, feeling the baby's heavy head rubbing between her legs before giving up and dumping the whole thing on the floor and tossing the empty bag weakly over her shoulder. She eventually found the power bank and charging cable in the pocket of her hoodie. It was a small, rose-gold device about as wide as a deck of cards but only half as thick. "Thank fuck," she sighed, and then plugged the device's cord into her phone. Immediately, the phone's screen lit up with a green battery icon, indicating that it was charging properly.

Frankie let out a little cheer as she unlocked her phone, and then quickly opened the front-facing camera. She reached behind her to snap a few pics of the baby's head then quickly reviewed them. The baby was massive, and was facing her tail. She could make out pudgy little lips and a big wide nose, and tightly-closed eyes squished by a massive forehead and chubby cheeks. She tried to pick herself up using the wash basin for support, and snapped a few more pictures leaning over the side, then turned around for a few provocative full-frontal shots. She kept taking pictures as a contraction crashed over her, the canine struggling to hold the baby in place with one hand while holding the camera with the other, even as the baby squirmed and writhed inside her, rubbing against sensitive internal parts. "Y-you're starting to turn me on, you little shit," she warned between pictures, "I hope you can f-finish what you started!"

After the contraction faded away, Frankie knew she needed to get ready to record the rest of the delivery. She had been fighting with the baby for so long that she thought it was bound to just slide out after a few more pushes - it probably would have slid out already if she hadn't been trying to push it back in. She rolled over again and crawled towards the rocking chair, feeling the head wobble between her legs with every movement, and then set the camera on the floor, leaning up against the leg of the desk. She opened the front camera again and started recording, now that the power bank was hooked up and she didn't have to worry about draining her battery.

She waved to the camera with a toothy grin before turning around to the rocking chair and leaning against it for support. After making sure the camera had a good angle, looking up at the action, she wagged her tail from side to side, letting it brush over the baby's wet, sticky face. When the next contraction came she arched her back and let out a low, guttural moan. Finally, she didn't have to hold back anymore. She could use all her strength to push this baby out instead of holding it in. She expected it to fall right out and onto the rug, but . . . nothing happened. The massive head didn't budge. She pushed again, bearing her pointed teeth and pulling her tail to the side, but it was like she was pushing against a brick wall. She wasn't holding the baby in anymore, but something was keeping it from coming out.

"Aw, fuck," Frankie sighed breathlessly, looking back at the camera to make sure it was still recording, "c'mon, you little shit." She leaned over to one side and started fumbling between her legs, fingers exploring around the baby's chin and the back of its neck to see if there was something caught. She couldn't feel a cord anywhere, so the problem must have been deeper inside, and that was going to be a lot harder to fix. She kept her hand there as another contraction quickly began to build, sliding her fingers around the stretched skin between her legs to try and coax something out. "OooooOOOOOH!" she whined as the pain continued to mount even through the effects of the medication. She was in big trouble if it was wearing off, she thought.

Desperate to mitigate the pain, Frankie let her tail drop and pushed her fingers down towards her clit, right under the back of the baby's head. She let out a small yelp as her claws made contact - the skin was so stretched that each touch was a sharp mixture of pleasure and pain, like an electric shock. She tried to push the skin back, around the baby's shoulder or whatever it was, but she felt like she couldn't possibly stretch any further. She circled her fingers around the baby's head, trying to find some place she could worm her way in, then leaned fully on the chair and used both hands to try and turn the baby's shoulders, or head, or something, anything, before another contraction crashed though her body. The baby's shoulders jammed against her fingers so hard she could have sworn they were about to break. She howled in pain, pulling her fingers slowly out and fumbling desperately to reposition the baby from outside until the contraction ebbed away, leaving her breathless and panting once again.

This was way more difficult than any of her previous deliveries. Not only did this baby feel bigger than anything she had ever carried before, but it felt completely stuck, and she was all alone this time with no way of getting help.

"C'mon," she pleaded, "I was just kidding about the 'regret it' stuff."

Between contractions, she tried to change position and lift one leg up, like she was starting a race. It felt like something down there shifted, and with a renewed vigor she fumbled around under her tail with one hand and supported herself with the other, occasionally looking back to admire the view in the camera from underneath. At the very least, the change of position seemed to allow her slightly more space to work. She found she could get at least one finger in around the baby's bony shoulder, two if she really tried to relax. It would have to be enough, she thought, and she pushed the shoulder as far around as she could before she felt another contraction begin to well up from her core. She gave a halfhearted push, and then let out a throaty grunt as the baby moved ever so slightly. She looked behind her to see her reflection in the phone's camera again, then let out a guttural, feral howl as she pushed in earnest. One advantage of giving birth in the middle of nowhere, she thought to herself, was not having to worry about drawing attention. She could scream as loud as she wanted and no one would ever know.

The unborn baby felt like it moved only a tiny bit, and she couldn't see any progress when she turned around to look, but it was enough to encourage her to keep going. She continued pushing until the contraction petered out, then sank into the chair and panted heavily. "You're . . . you're really fuckin' makin' me work for it, aren'tcha?"

She waited for the next contraction without moving, and then let out another high-pitched shriek as the sudden, sharp pain ripped through her without warning. It was much sooner than she expected, and hurt far more than she was prepared for. It wasn't burning anymore so much as blinding, a white-hot sensation that drowned out absolutely everything else. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak, she could barely even think, all she could do was push. She didn't know how long the sensation lasted, all she knew was that when she regained her senses and looked behind her, one of the baby's gargantuan shoulders was starting to peek out from under her tail. She let out a huff of relief, and then she realized that she couldn't actually remember the last minute or so. It was a deeply unsettling sensation, she remembered everything. She at least had the video to play back and fill in the gap later, she thought. "You're gonna make me go feral," she accused the emerging baby, "you little shit."

Before the next spasm of pain took over, she reached down between her legs to press down on her clit, trying to balance out the overwhelming pain with even the slightest hint of pleasure. It worked somewhat, but she was still reduced to a yelping, whining mess when the next contraction hit. She pushed her face into the rocking chair and shrieked, her fingers pushing, hooking, tugging and scrabbling between her legs as if they had a mind of their own. She quickly found a clumsy rhythm of rubbing and pushing, but still she felt like she was fighting to stay in control.

"Fffffuck," she groaned as she felt the baby's shoulder underneath her fingers. She rubbed the pads of her fingers in small circles, pushing down firmly and gritting her teeth. It was like the baby's collarbone was rubbing her back from the inside, and if she applied just the right sort of pressure, she could almost work with the baby to rub exactly the right spots. "Ffffuck," she groaned again, this time breathy with anticipation as a contraction crept up, squeezing the baby in her birth canal and increasing the pressure even further.

"Oh . . . oh fuck," she cursed a third time, realizing what was about to happen. She abandoned the idea of running her fingers in circles and started rubbing them rapidly back and forth, trying to arch her back to make sure the camera could see what she was doing. She felt a warm rush just as the contraction peaked, and she screamed so loud she would have rattled the windows if there were any left. Her unconventional efforts were rewarded with the slightest movement from the baby, barely an inch, but enough to unlock she second shoulder and slowly squeeze it out as Frankie collapsed onto the chair, heaving and huffing, tongue outstretched like a common mutt. "I . . . I think I just came," she thought out loud, her voice a mixture of exhaustion, ecstasy, and surprise. "You little fuck, you just made me cum!" She felt warm and fuzzy all over, even her vision was slightly blurred. An orgasm was obviously nothing new to the canine, but she'd never experienced a sensation so all-consuming. It frightened her a little, and then made her angry. She hated that feeling of powerlessness, and it was all this baby's fault. "You're gonna pay for that," she threatened.

Part of her hoped the baby would just slide out now that the other shoulder was free, but unfortunately Frankie had no such luck - this baby seemed intent on making her fight for every inch of progress. At least now the worst of it seemed like it was over. Frankie considered just letting the baby grind slowly out, but quickly decided she wanted to take back control and play a more active role. She looked between her legs and down at the phone. It was still on the floor leaning against the desk, the red light still staring up at her and recording her progress.

The baby had turned slightly to the left, the shoulders lining up more with the angle of Frankie's hips. She could just grab it and pull, she thought, but she didn't want to obscure the camera's view in any way. There were no second chances if her hands blocked a perfect angle. Instead, she slowly rolled over onto her right side and pulled her left leg up to her chest, allowing the phone an unobstructed view of the baby's head and face. Its features were slightly less scrunched, and she could see the baby's big eyes still closed, shimmering trails of thick fluid draining from its nose and mouth, and two big floppy, sticky ears that wobbled every time she moved. "Say cheese you little fuckwad," she grumbled as she took a deep breath and pushed, watching with satisfaction as the baby's upper body was squeezed out little by little, more and more slimy brown fur exposed to the chill cabin air. Thick gobs of fluid landed on the bear rug below her as one arm slipped out and flopped beside the baby's head, dangling almost to the ground. Frankie took a deep breath and pushed again. There was no point in timing her contractions anymore, they were coming so fast she felt they were almost stacking up on top of each other. So she pushed, and pushed, and pushed until another arm gushed out, followed by a thick, curly umbilical cord that seemed to unravel over the baby's slimy chest.

And then progress stopped. Frankie pushed, but once again it felt like she was hitting a wall. "Seriously?!" she exclaimed. The baby's entire upper body was out, and she could clearly its eyes start to blink open, still gummy with fluid. It was starting to stretch its arms and fingers slightly, exploring this new open space. "Give up," she pleaded, "You're basically out already! Why can't you just fucking cooperate?"

Again, she was tempted to just grab the baby and yank, but she was determined to force it out without "cheating" as so not to ruin the footage. "Fine," she snorted, and slowly began to roll over onto her other side. The baby's arms flailed aimlessly and grasped at the empty air as its mother turned, until it was hanging down with its back to the camera. Frankie pulled her leg up to her armpit and wrapped her arm around the underside of her knee to spread her thighs as wide as possible. She grit her teeth and pushed, feeling the baby's hips shift ever so slightly. This was it, she thought, and she took a deep breath then pushed with all her might. The baby's hips emerged slowly at first, then there was a sensation like someone pulling out a drain stopper as the baby finally spilled out in its entirety, somersaulting onto the bearskin rug and landing with a wet plop on its back before being drenched in the remainder of amniotic fluid. The newborn grunted from the impact and then let out a wet cry, kicking its feet out in all directions.

Frankie collapsed. She felt empty and exhausted, but accomplished. She managed to summon the strength to turn and look at both the newborn and the camera. The bearskin rug was ruined, matted with mucus and fluid. The newborn was huge, easily dwarfing all the other cubs she carried. It was almost positively a moose, she thought, judging from the long limbs, wide nose and sticky milk-chocolate fur. It was also definitely a boy, she saw, the newborn's aimless flailing giving her - and the camera - a gratuitous view of his little velvet sac and proud, bouncing erection.

"I win, fucker," she cackled weakly. She looked down at the wailing newborn, and then at the camera with a tired, victorious grin. She stuck out her tongue and threw up the horns at the camera, her grin widening as she realized that the "official" footage for Aaron's client would probably be cut there. Now she could have fun.

"I can't believe I gave birth to such a little pervert," she growled, lowering a bare footpaw onto the baby's chest. He was warm and wet under her sole, and she could feel his chest heaving with every noisy breath he took. She slid her foot down to his groin and rubbed his little erection back and forth between her claws. "Don't lose that," she grinned, "I'm gonna need it. But first I have to make sure you don't have a sister or something hiding in there!" With one foot still planted firmly on the newborn's groin, she bent her other leg up onto the side of the chair and pushed two fingers up between her legs alongside the slimy umbilical cord before adding a third digit.

"That's the shit," she sighed amorously as she pushed her fingers in deeper, sliding them around her swollen, gaping birth canal with a messy squelching sound. "This is what you wanted, right?" She inched closer to the newborn, bracing her other foot on the ground as so not to crush him underfoot. "It wasn't so bad when you were still in me, huh? Now you're naked on camera, exposed for everyone to see! And they're all gonna see what a big perv you are!" The newborn cried in protest, still squirming on his back.

She slid her foot up and down on the baby boy's groin again just to try and keep him hard, then moved her foot away to kneel over his face. "Like what you see, ya horny little fucker?" She bit her lip and dug her fingers in deeper, her birth canal stretched so wide the canine was almost fisting herself. It didn't take long before she peaked again, but this time it was a wave of sweet release under her own control. Warm fluid sprayed and dribbled from between her legs, coming in waves and gushes, further soaking the bearskin rug and splattering over the newborn's face, turning his constant wailing into a fit of wet coughing and sputtering. "That's right, thirsty boy," Frankie teased threateningly, "drink up - and clean up your mess!" She lowered herself down and started grinding her nethers over the newborn's mouth and nose, smearing his brown fur with more of her juices until he started to gasp for breath.

Fortunately, the canine had no intention of torturing the poor cervine. After a few pitiful coughs she pulled him out from under her by the leg and dangled him upside-down in front of the camera until he started to cry properly again.

"Aww, you went soft on me," Frankie huffed, seeing the image of the newborn's now-flaccid member on the camera screen, "don't tell me you're not interested anymore!" She clumsily flipped him into her arms and fumbled him onto her lap as she shuffled back onto the stained rocking chair with noticeable effort. She was trying to keep as much of herself and the baby onscreen as possible, but she was exhausted and the baby was slippery and squirming all over. She eventually got him more or less to hold still by folding his legs up to his chest and keeping his tailhole and boy bits exposed to the camera. With her other hand, she started rubbing her finger around his virgin tailhole before squeezing her fingertip just barely inside.

"There ya go, you like that, don'tcha?" she teased with a toothy grin, twisting her finger inside his bottom as he squirmed in her grip. "I'm pretty sure you're a bottom," she guessed, "I've met a lot of boys in my time, you start to get a feel for these things after a while, y'know?" The cub's member throbbed to life slowly as she molested him, right before he released a stream of clear urine onto the already-disheveled rug.

"Oh that poor bear," Frankie mused, "Such an undignified end!"

As soon as the newborn's member was satisfyingly firm, Frankie pulled her finger slowly out from his cheeks and slid it along his bottom, giving his rump a playful squeeze before sliding up between his legs to squeeze his little coin purse, too.

"How does it feel," Frankie teased, taking the baby's member in the palm of her hand and rubbing gently back and forth, "Not so eager when the shoe's on the other foot, are ya? I'm in control now, you little shit!" The boy's member was soft and pleasingly plump in her hand, girthier than she expected for a body so small, but nothing like that donkey kid a few years back. She would be lucky if she ever found a stallion like that again, she remember fondly. Still, size didn't matter much to Frankie - big or small, she used them all. This chubby moose boy was no exception. She slid her hand back and forth across his slimy parts, pulling the foreskin back and finding the shaft and head slippery and matted with all sorts of slime already. She could feel his little legs tense up, and watched his toes flex and curl in on the camera before his fat little member throbbed and pumped in her grip, expressing nothing but the last few drops of pee which trailed along the shaft and into Frankie's palm. "That was it?" she laughed, "Oh god, you're too easy. Someone is either going to be very happy or very disappointed in you when you get older." She quickly wiped her hand off on his belly, but was instantly reminded that he wasn't anywhere near clean and dry yet - his body was still slimy and matted with all manner of fluids and excretions. "God, you're a messy little fucker," she cursed, continuing to stroke his reddened, overstimulated shaft. She didn't think she could actually get him to climax again, but it was never about him to begin with. She just fondled and felt, grinning for the camera, putting on a show and listening to him squeal until she felt something resembling a contraction, building up again after so long.

Fortunately, this contraction was only an echo of the ones that came before, a mildly irritating ache that allowed the heavy placenta to slither out like an underfilled water balloon. "There ya go, fucker," she huffed with satisfaction, "You're free. Have fun!" She squeezed his little sack lightly and then placed him down on the soiled rug on his back and started to gather her things. But first, before putting everything back in her bag again, she unplugged her phone from the battery pack and snapped a picture of her and the naked moose baby with her shoulder covering up most of his body. She stuck out her tongue for the camera again and this time stuck up her middle finger at the lens before snapping the picture.

She swaddled the boy in a blanket from the bed and set him on the table as a sort of centerpiece, then left once her bag was packed without cleaning up any of the mess. That wasn't part of her commission, and it wasn't like this weird businessman would call in and complain.

As soon as she got back into an area with reception with the sound of the crying baby far behind her, she sent the last picture she took to Aaron along with a three-word text message: "I lived, bitch"", "pools_count": 3, "title": "[Story] Moosetrack Cabin", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "image/png", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "2", "rating_name": "Adult", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "4", "name": "Sexual Themes", "description": "Erotic imagery, sexual activity or arousal", "rating_id": "2" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "7", "views": "5961" }