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Description
Dar'gul groaned as another contraction seized him. He was caught in a state of constantly shaking and being frozen stiff. He gritted his teeth as he drew air in and out, trying to relax as much as he could. However, the more he struggled, the more pain his body was racked with. It was taking all he could to keep himself from collapsing onto the ground and screaming for aid.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He refused to call for help. If he did, he would bring shame upon not just his house, but to his tribe. He was chosen by the chieftain to bare orclings. Large orclings from what it seemed. And quite numerous. Although there was no visible outward signs of movement, he could feel the small infants squirming in his now sizable middle. If he had to guess, he had to be carrying at least four or five orclings. Maybe more. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Carrying them was hard enough; imagine the pain of going through labor just to give birth?! As these thoughts ran through his head, he felt a release of liquid pour out of his sizable pectorals and neather regions. He wanted to look down to see if his water had finally broke, but he could hardly move, much less see past his rotund stomach. It certainly felt like it did.

'Please be over, please be over!' he screamed in his head, begging for release. 'Please let this nightmare be over!' As soon as he thought that, he felt yet another contraction. The strongest one yet... and one that nearly made him cry out in pain and tears. It had to time. There's just no way that he had been sitting with a brood for nearly ten months and he was still not ready for labor. He waited for something, anything. Maybe for one of the orclings to start moving downward. And after five minutes... nothing. All he felt was a distinct wetness on his inner thighs and the squirms of young orclings in his womb. Dar'gul felt his heart sink.

He wasn't ready yet.

He felt his legs slowly quiver under his weight and he fell onto his bottom, clucthing his belly as he gasped for air. His body was drenched in sweat and he was sore in so many places. It was a miracle that he could even stand for any length of time, much less walk. As he closed his eyes to let some semblance of sleep take him, he could feel small kicks one after the other. Each one was distinct and he could tell which orcling was which based on the strength of their kick. He counted in his head how many kicks and which orcling made which kick. His eyes shot open as he suddenly recognized that two of the kicks he didn't recognize. He felt five distinct kicks followed by two new kicks, very strong ones. He looked down at his stomach in a mixture of surprise and horror. If his heart could sink any lower, it would be doing so right now.

"Seven..." Dar'gul muttered, his voice breaking as he felt himself slowly retreat into himself. "Seven... orclings..."

Description
Dar'gul groaned as another contraction seized him. He was caught in a state of constantly shaking and being frozen stiff. He gritted his teeth as he drew air in and out, trying to relax as much as he could. However, the more he struggled, the more pain his body was racked with. It was taking all he could to keep himself from collapsing onto the ground and screaming for aid.

But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He refused to call for help. If he did, he would bring shame upon not just his house, but to his tribe. He was chosen by the chieftain to bare orclings. Large orclings from what it seemed. And quite numerous. Although there was no visible outward signs of movement, he could feel the small infants squirming in his now sizable middle. If he had to guess, he had to be carrying at least four or five orclings. Maybe more. The thought made him sick to his stomach. Carrying them was hard enough; imagine the pain of going through labor just to give birth?! As these thoughts ran through his head, he felt a release of liquid pour out of his sizable pectorals and neather regions. He wanted to look down to see if his water had finally broke, but he could hardly move, much less see past his rotund stomach. It certainly felt like it did.

'Please be over, please be over!' he screamed in his head, begging for release. 'Please let this nightmare be over!' As soon as he thought that, he felt yet another contraction. The strongest one yet... and one that nearly made him cry out in pain and tears. It had to time. There's just no way that he had been sitting with a brood for nearly ten months and he was still not ready for labor. He waited for something, anything. Maybe for one of the orclings to start moving downward. And after five minutes... nothing. All he felt was a distinct wetness on his inner thighs and the squirms of young orclings in his womb. Dar'gul felt his heart sink.

He wasn't ready yet.

He felt his legs slowly quiver under his weight and he fell onto his bottom, clucthing his belly as he gasped for air. His body was drenched in sweat and he was sore in so many places. It was a miracle that he could even stand for any length of time, much less walk. As he closed his eyes to let some semblance of sleep take him, he could feel small kicks one after the other. Each one was distinct and he could tell which orcling was which based on the strength of their kick. He counted in his head how many kicks and which orcling made which kick. His eyes shot open as he suddenly recognized that two of the kicks he didn't recognize. He felt five distinct kicks followed by two new kicks, very strong ones. He looked down at his stomach in a mixture of surprise and horror. If his heart could sink any lower, it would be doing so right now.

"Seven..." Dar'gul muttered, his voice breaking as he felt himself slowly retreat into himself. "Seven... orclings..."