Late Night Delivery

The studio apartment was small, but good value for student accommodation. It was late in the night; the room was dark, lit only by the glare of a couple of PC monitors. The floor was strewn with bags, clothes, and textbooks. There was a single bed in one corner of the room; in another, a desk with a computer. A figure leaned back on his gaming chair with a gutteral cry from a deep masculine voice.

He felt wetness gushed out from between his legs, dripping onto the seat and the carpet. At the same time, a terrible crushing sensation in his lower torso. A light brown furred paw gripped an arm rest tight, another cradled the curve of his swollen abdomen. The sensations were familiar, he had gone through it half a dozen of times before. But the contractions were never this strong, this soon.

'Sorry guys, I have to go,' said the labouring boy, before ending his voice call and quitting his Second Strike game.

The young herm slowly got off his chair. He was wearing an oversized hoodie, but no pants, showing off his long fuzzy legs, and letting his half-erect cock and large balls hang loose in the cool night air. Walking past a mirror, he took one last look at his pregnant figure, with an enormously distended belly that had visibly dropped low even as it was concealed under his hoodie.

He had thoroughly enjoyed the last nine months. This pregnancy had been kinder to him than most, sparing him much of the nausea and morning sickness and back pain that he got last time, allowing the thylacine to bask in paternal glow, watching his belly swell out week by week, stretching firmer and tighter, enjoying his sky-high libido and the hook-ups of all sexes that he invited back to his room.

That was the thing he liked about this university; there were no shortage of hormonal, irresponsible young guys down for casual no-strings sex. The more irresponsible the seeder, the better, as Mitch had no plans for a relationship or settling down. He just need to be bred. Whenever he wasn't carrying, he would feel an aching emptiness inside of him, a desperate yearning that welled up from somewhere deep inside his soul, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. An unquenchable desire to be filled, and changed, and grown.

The thylacine wasn't too choosey - whatever size, whatever species. Several of his hook-ups had expressed interest to father the next baby, and he was pretty sure he had already knocked up a few himself.

Mitch made his way to the bathroom. He was splashing water on his face when another harsh cramp forced him to brace against a wall. The baby suddenly felt very, very low in his hips. The contraction came in fast and fierce. Mitch winced and groaned, but suppressed a scream. He didn't want to wake up the whole building.

The boy rubbed his swollen middle. It was firm and hard as concrete as it contracted.

'Nghaah... you're an impatient one aren't you'. He liked this baby. It was active, and moved a lot, but gently, politely almost. This one was destined for adoption like the rest; Mitch knew he was nowhere near mature enough to raise a cub himself. Still, he took care to eat healthily and attended regular health check-ups. His babies would get the best start in life he could give. That was his way of caring for them.

Mitch waddled back out into his bedroom, sitting back down on his gaming chair. He opened up YouTV to watch some videos while he waited for the contractions to get stronger. It didn't take very long at all before the contractions became so strong he was doubling over in his seat.

'Ahhh fuck! Nghhhhh!! Already... God, it hurts so good...' The pregnant boy took a sharp breath as he got up and moved over to his bed.

Overheating, he took off his thick hoodie, his bare sweat-drenched brown fur and soft features on an average build revealed in the dim screen light. The thylacine knelt by his bed, arching his striped back, as he struggled through wave after wave of contractions, as the downwards pressure in his pelvis became more and more unbearable.

He grabbed a pillow and moaned into it, breathing heavily. The baby's head wasn't yet in his birth canal yet, let alone sitting on his prostate, but already the boy's cock was rock hard. He gyrated and thrusted his hips, grinding his chest on the bed leaving trails of milk on the sheets.

As his womb tightened and inexorably drove the baby's head down and set all of his nerves on fire, the boy felt fertile, powerful. Like he was a shaman in trance, in touch with something raw and primordial. The way his mind and body geared up to act as one under his basic instincts in labour and birth was exhilarating to his most feral sexual impulse.

Needing to change positions, the thylacine clambered fully onto the bed, laying on his back supported by a mound of pillows as he felt another contraction surge through him. The baby's head crashed into his dilated cervix and the boy felt the unmistakeable urge to push.

'Oh god! It's coming! Nghhh!! Aaaaaahh!!' He screamed into the pillow, hoping that the soundproofing here really was as good as advertised. 

This baby wasn't giving him any time to rest. Seemingly as soon as one contraction ended another began. The boy gripped onto the sheets as the baby barrelled down his tight birth canal, propelled by his strong pushes. It was big, heavy, the sheer weight of the baby filling his pelvis made him shudder and kick his legs in the air. His body was flooded by an intoxicating mix of extreme agony and primal arousal and his vision began to narrow and blur.

The speed of the baby's descent was alarming, thrilling, and excruciating all at once. The already high intensity of a usual birth compressed this time into an overpowering concentrate that left the birthing male a desparate, trembling, moaning mess on the bed.

After only a few pushes the baby's head squeezed past his overstimulated prostate and began to stretch his perineum. Precum poured from the tip of his cock as it throbbed painfully. 

'Y... you really wanted out huh, buddy?'

The baby's head bulged between the thylacine's legs, half-crowning, the intense pressure surging from within slowly overwhelming the tightness of his opening. The struggling boy wished he could savour these feelings for a bit longer, the riot of hormones rushing through through him and the impossible fullness in his canal, the overpowering fusion of pleasure and pain.

'Slow down baby... ahhhnngg... give me just a little longer...'

But he just couldn't stop pushing. His muscles had a mind of their own and the boy was helpless in the face of the all-consuming need to bear down and give birth. He pushed, delirious, shuddering and writhing in the throes of the forces of creation like an animal possessed. His fur drenched with sweat, his lungs burning like he was running a marathon.

'Ooooh... the head... it's coming out... nghhhh!! It's so fucking big!'

The thylacine struggled not to scream as the baby crowned more and threatened to tear him apart. Compressing his voice to a low moan as he neared the final stretch, the boy cupped the emerging fuzzy head with his paws and bore down. It opened him up impossibly wide before tumbling out in a gush of fluids. His cock throbbed violently, firing cum shots across the room.

The thylacine gasped for air, his body shaking as his paws felt the huge head hanging out of his entrance and checked for a cord. 

'There you are little guy... Hang on, we're almost there...'

Right on cue, a contraction gripped him, compelling his body to keep pushing. He bore down hard, a scream throttled behind his gritted teeth, his spreaded legs shaking with effort. The baby's shoulders rotated and painfully slid out. Mitch fought to hold the push as the pressure ratcheted up at his entrance one final time before the rest of the baby suddenly surged forward and out along with a gush of fluids.

Mitch slumped back against the pillows as the new life between his legs began to wail. After a moment the exhausted boy scooped up the baby, a large, wet lion cub, and held him to his chest.

'It's okay, little guy, it's okay. Welcome to the world, buddy.'