Caricature of intimacy
The pain was more intense than anything the autumn babe had ever imagined. Why the fuck no one told women it was this horrific. Nothing could be more brutal, not whips or chains. The den was only a few meters, her closest ones melting into the background as if they weren't even there. Is there anything more isolating than intense pain? Doesn't pain lock us in as effectively as any prison? After, when her first daughter was born, it was as if only sunshine existed the world, as if all the earth was ushered into harmony. Upon hearing the yelps, fiery orange orbs gazed upon her tiny frame, a new consciousness, perfect and reaching out for their love. In that instant she knew she would do anything to protect her child and she had a feeling, judged by a brief glance, that Hannibal was feeling the same way.
Though her belly is large she’s still skinny really, her reptilian form and her two genitalia does not help her with anything in labour, if anything, they cause more pain for the babe. Another contraction hit her like a hurricane. From her face everyone can tell she’s fighting hard to regulate her breathing. Panting. Chest raising and falling repeatedly as her own body orders her to push, to realease and so she does. Strenght, power, they mold into one as push after push their second born was brought onto this world. Another beautiful girl, the spitting image of her father, mirroring almost every detail of his pigmentation; only a notch smaller than their first born daughter that kept mewling and yelping through the whole ordeal. A both strained and joyous smile spread across the babes exotic visage upon gazing onto her two beauties. The first one a miraculous and fascinating combination of their pigments and the second one a mimickry of her father.
The third and last contraction was not as powerful or as hard however, if you were to ask her, it was the most painful due to her strain, her body temperature was high and she had also became dehydrated. You could see that in her eyes, on her frame, could hear her too. She’s panting like her guts were being ripped out with a blunt instrument even against the winter wind outside that threatens to rip the limbs from the trees, especially the young ones. After another few pushes, finally, the third and last spawn escaped her womb and encountered the warm air of their den and different scents that were now surrounding them from worry and love and fucking exhaustation. The third cub was much smaller than his two sisters, he was the runt of the litter, the weakling with a pigmentation much closer to Thys and her heritage though his father ivory tendrils made an impression on him as well. Worry overcame the babe upon seeing his size however she knew it her heart that they will become strong, all of them. They are of strong blood and they are the heirs to two thrones. The Goddess had gave the ivory brute two Queens and a King for their bloodlines. Fiery optics locked onto his bicolored ones.
