THE AFTERMATH

holy tits on a stick, thank you muse ♥



?It is time. Whether or not the ice queen was mentally prepared to expand her bloodline, physically, her abdomen was greatly distended to create space for the developed fetuses residing within her womb, convulsions wracking her interior to indicate that her pregnancy was swiftly drawing to a close. The unpleasant sensation that abruptly consumed her fragile being was one that the aging wraith had previously experienced approximately a year prior, and thus, when the pangs began to strike, fluctuating in intensity from her swollen abdomen, the woman knew the grueling process of childbirth had only just begun and that, in mere hours, the new Elysius additions would make their arrivals ? with or without her compliancy.



Distraught pants cascaded jaggedly from the babe?s velvet lips, hung awry with the pained expression contorting her porcelain features as brief whines slipped involuntarily into the cacophony of her hysteria. Serpentine limbs propelled the wench to the makeshift den she had carved during the earlier stages of her pregnancy, faltering in stride with each strained step she took, incessant barks mingling with her sobs in summon to the bastard who had placed her in such a vulnerable state and who hopefully lingered close by as she had demanded of him. They were his children too, after all, and although he held no desire to remain a part of their lives, the ice queen demanded his presence throughout their first year of life and so that was how it would be less the goliath wished to completely lose the ability to create further spawn ? it was a choice she had made clear to him and a choice she would not sway from.



Dainty paws flexed as the woman pulled her mass into the den she would be confined to for the next several hours, halting at the entrance as an abrupt howl split her clenched jaws in summon to the remainder of her bloodline, inclined to invite them to witness as their younger half-siblings were presented to the earth, hoping they would provide her with the comfort she knew the sire to her whelps would not. Once her beckoning howl had concluded, the woman writhed towards the rear of the den, breathing irregular and pain evident in her countenance as further contractions afflicted her interior, urging for her to begin the process. No ? she would refrain from it, allowing pain to dominate her petite body as she waited for those held dearest to her and then the father, wishing for the encouragement that only their presences would allow.


"speech"