Walking through the forest as a laboring vixen was… an experience to say the least. All of the aching, squirming, kicking, and exhaustion from before was still there, but now it was punctuated by periods of intense suffering as your body tried to force 12 kits through a tight cervix that was opening far too slowly for your liking.
Each time a contraction came you would pause as you did the only thing you could do – moaning and groaning as your body fought against itself. Each time it happened you tried to find a position that was more comfortable, but nothing seemed to work.
Laying on your side did help you to rest or relax. Laying on your back just increased the pressure on your spine. Laying on your stomach was impractical, given how far below you your belly protruded, not to mention that it just caused your sore nipples to rub against the ground. Even squatting, which you assumed would help align all of the internal bits, did nothing to improve the mechanics of things and just resulted in your rear legs tiring out.
After the disappointing results of your experiments, you eventually consigned yourself to flopping on your side. Not that it helped, but what else were you going to do?
It did make it a little easier to relax your back and let the muscles in your stomach pull it into a slight arch. Not that arching your back helped either, but why fight against it? With a dozen large kits to push out, you were in it for the long haul.
After realizing the futility of your plight, you managed to find an indent in the trunk of a tree that was the perfect size for your vulpine body. Laying down in the small nook, you repeated the same cycle of contractions followed by normalcy.
At first the contractions only came every few minutes, but as time went on, they began to get long and more frequent. Day turned into night and the contractions continued. They were coming almost constantly now, and each felt like it lasted forever. There were breaks in between, but it felt like mere seconds before pain once again wracked your body.
But despite everything that you were going through, the most frustrating part of it was how helpless you felt. When you’d first gone into labor, you could feel the kits inside of you being forced against a firm wall of flesh that you knew was your cervix. As time went on, you’d felt that wall loosen, then begin to open up. By the time the moon was overhead, the wall was gone. And while you didn’t have any prior experience with the birthing process, you had picked up enough from TV and movies to know that your cervix was fully dilated.
The kits were supposed to come shortly after that, weren’t they? That was a question you had asked, only for your body to reply with a firm:
“NO”
These kits were bigger than normal, and this was your body’s first pregnancy. On top of that, it had been a virgin before the todd had put the kits inside of you, and your body hadn’t had a sexual experience after that. While you were about to become a mother, your vixen cunt – and the birth canal behind it – were both just as tight as if you were still a virgin. That meant you needed to stretch. A lot.
By the time that the sun rose, you could feel a tiny muzzle slip down into your birth canal. That wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it was the first time that the muzzle stayed lodged in the canal, rather than slipping back up into you.
You kept pushing and straining. The muzzle moved further down with its shoulder’s following close behind it. Another hour, another few dozen contractions, but the muzzle was passing through the inside of your hips.
The small, soft body of the kit was acting in conjunction with the hard bones in your hips to act like a vice for your tender insides, squishing them between the two.
You moaned, you whined. Your body tore at itself as your back arched and your tail stuck out straight behind you.
Another contraction and you pawed at the air as you felt the kit’s muzzle press into the back of your cunt, which began to part around it.
You pushed. The kit’s shoulder passed agonizingly through your hips as you could feel its head begin to emerge from inside of you. As if to reinforce what was happening, you could feel its soft, wet nose begin to press into the bottom of your tail.
The head was out, it was so close, all you needed was one more…
PUSH
You gave it everything you could as you poured the sum total of your body’s energy into your hips in a desperate attempt to relieve yourself of the kit inside of you. It went lower and lower, you could feel the head fully emerge as it shoulders descended towards your cunt when-
The shoulder pressed into the delicate flesh of the back of your vulva. Unlike the head, which was shaped for an expedient exit, the kit’s shoulders were broad and flat. They slammed into the back of your vulva in the wrong way. Rather than spreading to let the kit out, your cunt held firm as it began to push its way out behind you.
You would feel your cunt stretching backwards. It was going to tear. The shoulders were too big, your muscles were pushing too hard, the process was all going too fast. YOU were going to tear.
As the kit pressed into the back of your cunt, you did everything that you could to stop the process. You had no control over the straining muscles in your stomach, so you tried clenching yourself, but that was a futile gesture against the inexorable tide of the kit’s procession through your cunt.
You tried moving your tail down in a vain attempt to somehow block the kit, or push it back in, or at least slow it done, but your thin tail lacked the strength, dexterity, or mass to accomplish any of that.
“Yip!” You yelled in a last ditched effort to beg your body to stop and take a breather. Just a quick bout of relaxation. The kit could stay there, wedged halfway out of your cunt, but it would give you time to stretch or for the kit to reposition itself. You howled in desperation as you begged your body not to-
There was one last lance of pain, then another popping sensation, and… relief. The pressure in your belly was still there, but all of the pressure and pain running up from your cunt and through your birth canal was gone.
You slowly repositioned yourself as you looked down between your legs, seeing a small baby fox covered in a wispy coat of thin, red fur – still attached to you by a blue tube of flesh that ran from its stomach back up inside of you.
You’d done it. You’d birthed the kit. And from the seemingly ‘normal’ sensation coming from your crotch, you hadn’t even torn yourself in the process. Now just 11 more to go.
Your body decided to give you a bit of a break, as the next contraction delayed itself by a few minutes. But, sure enough, it came. The second kit was just as bad as the first, but after 30 minutes of whining, yipping, and struggling, it too had come out.
Then came three and four. By the time you started working on number five your body was on complete autopilot. The pain and exhaustion running through you dulled your mind as it felt like there was nothing you could do. You hadn’t even pushed at all for number four, and in the back of your mind you’d wondered if it would come out without ‘your’ participation in the process, but sure enough your body had managed to painfully dislodge it.
Eyes closed, another contraction hit as you felt something wriggle against the inside of your thigh, followed shortly thereafter by a wet tongue lapping against one of your teats. You didn’t need to look down to know what was happening – one of the kits who you’d managed to birth had crawled up against you and was now nursing. It wasn’t an unpleasant situation but, given everything else that was going on, it was another bit of sensory overload that you didn’t need right now.
A thought forced its way into your mind. You wanted to tell the kit ‘mommy needs a break’. The oddness of the thought wasn’t lost on you. A day ago you’d been a man, but now you were thinking of yourself as a mother. Plus, you couldn’t speak, so its not like you had any way to communicate the idea to the kit, not that it would understand or care if you could.
You had the vaguest inclination to try to nudge it away with your leg, but you were too tired. Plus, another thought wormed its way through your brain – ‘the kit must be really hungry to be lapping at me that hard.’
You sighed as another contraction began. Was this the next two weeks? Were you really going to take care of these kits, or were you just going to abandoned them as you rejoined the party?
You didn’t have time to answer as there was a rustling in the bushed in front of you and a mountain lion poked its head out.
It sat there, staring at you, before its gaze moved down to your backside and the kits wabbling around there.
You wanted to say “I’m a predator, you know the rules so fuck off and leave me be,” but the next contraction drew your attention back to your own plight.
Another moan escaped your mouth and the mountain lion exited the bushes as it walked over to you.
Someone who was less familiar with these events might be concerned that the mountain lion was a natural predator, rather than a participant, but you knew better. While outdoors events like this had natural prey, all of the predators were participants and the rules were clear – predators could not harm other predators. If one tried, their suit would prevent it.
So you just sat there, laboring against the fifth kit as it passed down into your canal and through your hips, ignoring the mountain lion when it spoke.
“Interesting costume you have.”
The mountain lions gaze was fixated on the space below your tail as you looked up at it with as much scorn as you could.
“Grrr,” you growled in anger, telling the mountain lion to leave you alone.
“Oh, so feisty, you must want me to leave you to your work. But what if I don’t? Hmm? What will do then? What could you possibly do to me if I just sit here and watch?”
“Grrr,” you growled again, this time baring your teeth.
“Don’t pretend that there’s any fight in you, girl. What are you going to do? Give birth to something that’s going to kill me?” the mountain lion gestured to the cubs laying on the ground.
Something was wrong here. Again, like pregnant prey, predators weren’t supposed to talk. The only person who ever could was…
The mountain lion looked you in the eyes, and you had a sudden flash of realization.
“I assume from the look of surprise on your vulpine face that you figured it out, I’m Andrew.”
“Yip!” you let out a pained sound. The simplicity of the noise was perhaps its greatest strength, as it boiled down the multitude of questions you had about your current situation into a simple ‘why?’
The mountain lion chuffed to itself, “because you’re not a predator.”
Andrew began circling the tree whose base you were nestled in as he continued.
“This is a special event, there are no fixed predators or prey. A mouse could just as easily kill a snake as a wolf could kill a deer. Despite that, you tried to cheat your way out of the fun by taking advantage of our friendship.”
“That’s the kind of cowardly mindset that I would expect from someone who, at their core, was prey through and through. Despite that, I gave you the best costume that would befit someone of your standing – a stag. You could have done something as simple as eating a mouse, or taken the initiative and gored a wolf. Whatever you had done, you would have had an excellent opportunity to prove that you had the soul of a predator.”
The mountain lion paused as it stopped its pacing directly in front of you.
“But you didn’t take the initiative, did you? Rather than accepting the challenge you had been given, you tried to weasel your way out of things. I suppose I should have given you a weasel costume instead, but one of our participants this year is quite fond of weasels and I didn’t want to insult him.”
“So I gave you that fox. You see, you probably assumed that a fox was a predator, but that’s not always true. Like most animals, a fox can be a predator or a prey, depending on its situation. To a mouse, sure, you’re a predator. But to a mountain lion, like me?”
Andrew chuckled again, “Well, I supposed if you were fit and alert, you might still be able to swing yourself my predator, or at least as my equal. But now that you’re a very pregnant vixen, stuck in the middle of a long and exhausting birth? I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re prey.”
The mountain lion bent over, hunger in its eyes as saliva dribbled out of its mouth.
“You could have still survived. If you weren’t so arrogant, you would have acted like a natural vixen and found a nice den somewhere to keep you safe while you birthed your kits. Then, you would have had a choice. Stay in your den nursing them like a good girl, nursing your kits as your hid. Or abandon them and find prey to hunt.”
“If you’d done the former, you could have lived out the rest of your life in that body, giving birth to litter after litter until you grew old and died. If you’d done the former then you would have been a guest at next year’s party. But now…”
Andrew trailed off as his gave was drawn back to your cunt.
Another contraction hit your body, this one more powerful than any before it as the vixen inside of your realized its precarious situation and did what it could to get its kits out into the world.
All at once, you could feel the muzzle forcing its way down, until it passed through your cunt. But like its siblings, its shoulders to caught inside of you, stopping its progress as its head hung in the air between your legs.
“Looks like that ones almost out. I tell you what, since you’ve been such a good friend to me, I’ll eat your kits first. If they’re enough to satisfy me, I’ll leave you be, but I’m sealing you in that costume forever.”
You looked up into his eyes and whined in desperation. The same thought that had passed through the skunk’s brain now filled you own.
Not this. I don’t want to be a vixen. I don’t want to be a mother. I don’t want to be stuck like this for the rest of my life.
But you didn’t want to die either.
There had to be some way out, some way back to normal. Some way to-
You howled and yipped as the next contraction resulted in a familiar pop and the kit fell free of your body.
You wanted to run, you wanted to get away, you wanted to escape from here. But what you wanted didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was what your body wanted, which was to give birth, to become a mother, to nurse its young, then repeat the process all over again. Whatever Andrew had done to seal you into the costume was already taking effect as instincts began to creep into your mind.
So you did the only thing you could do, you laid there in agony as your body got to work on birthing kit number 6, all while you hoped that there were enough inside of you to satiate the mountain lion, while still leaving some left over for you to nurse.