Page 110 of Breeding Clinic

She picks up her glass again to drink the rest. “I can’t wait to get this baby out of me.”

Matthew pulls a pot off the pot rack and spreads vegetables on the cutting board. “I’ll have breakfast ready in half an hour. Why don’t you go take a hot bath?”

“Good idea,” I agree on her behalf. She’s already showered, but the hot bath will help her relax so the false labor pains go away. “I’ll fill the tub. Come on.”

Kat side-eyes me while we head to the bedroom. “You just want to stare at my boobs.”

“Can you blame me? They’re spectacular.” I run the bath until it’s hot and add some scented Epsom salts for her.

Once it’s filled, Kat twists her hair up in a clip and I help her in. Her balance is iffy now that she’s nearly due. I sit with her while she’s soaking, my hand on her knee, while I pull up the local weather app on my phone.

It turns out the reason why we didn’t think the storm would be so bad is because we were using the national app that came with our phones. Their prediction didn’t take the elevation and wind into account. A bit of searching shows me there’s a regional weather company that the residents use. It’s supposed to snow off and on until this afternoon and then the sun willcome out. Hopefully that’ll start melting it enough for us to leave soon.

I tell Kat what I’ve read and she hums thoughtfully. “Hopefully the roads will be cleared tomorrow. The plow has to come up here at some point, right?”

“Yeah.”

Liam joins us, shoving his phone into his back pocket. “I spoke with the owner. The people who were supposed to come after us had their flight canceled because of the storm. We’re fine to stay until it’s safe to leave. His plow guy will come dig us out once it stops snowing.”

“Breakfast is almost done!” Matthew shouts from the kitchen. “Shit. Dammit. Liam, can you help me? The bacon’s burning and I need to keep whisking.”

Liam rushes out to help. The smell of bacon makes my stomach twist with hunger. After last night, I’ve earned it. I got a week’s worth of cardio in one evening thanks to Matthew’s crazy sex pills.

“Come on,” I tell Kat, popping the drain up and reaching to help her out. Once she’s standing, I wrap her in a fluffy towel and steady her while she steps out of the tub. “Let’s stretch your perineum real quick while you’re relaxed from the bath.”

Kat chuckles darkly and clutches the ends of her towel more tightly. “Oh, no no no. I had enough stretching last night, thanks.”

I grab her bottle of almond oil and pour some into my hand, slicking them together and warming it with friction. “We’ve skipped it all week except for last night. You don’t want to tear, right? We’ll be quick. And then you can eat and we’ll lie down and watch a movie.”

“Fine. Only a bit, though. My pelvis is sore from last night.” She gives in and sits at the bathroom vanity, propping one leg up for me.

Kneeling at her feet, I massage her with light strokes. Work the oil into her skin and curls, checking that she hasn’t torn. We were as gentle as we could be with her last night, as gentle as one can be while shoving three dicks into one vagina. She still sucks in a breath when I start to stretch her walls.

I add more oil, massaging it into her until she relaxes. Then I work my thumbs inside, gently rubbing. Working around clockwise, loosening her pelvic muscles like the obstetrician’s diagrams instructed. Adding a third finger and pulling down toward the ground, getting the skin used to being stretched.

“How is that?” I ask her, checking in.

“Good. It’s better now.”

I work the oil in deeper still, twisting my hand to start on her front wall. My middle finger brushes against her cervix. It’s soft and squishy. Thin, and slightly open. I stop, my back stiffening. It’s not… I check her again to make sure I’m not wrong.

She’s four centimeters dilated. A week ago, her cervix was closed.

I don’t want to say anything. Don’t want to panic her or the others. Some women are dilated for days, even weeks. It doesn’t mean she’s in labor. Still, it worries me. But she’s not due for two almost three more weeks. Most first-time mothers go over rather than under. It’s second babies that arrive earlier than planned. But what if her contractions aren’t false labor?

I can’t say anything until I’m sure.

“Did the contractions go away?” I ask, careful to keep my voice sounding normal.

“It’s better after the bath, thanks.”

That’s not a yes. But I can’t pry and arouse suspicion. The last thing I need is everyone getting anxious and panicking. The road will be clear tomorrow. Some women have early labor for days before going into active labor. It’s probably fine.

Pulling my hand free, I wipe the excess oil off her and myhand with the edge of her towel and stand. I bend down and kiss her gently. “All done.”

She gives me a sunny smile and puts her comfy night clothes back on. By the time we return to the kitchen, Matthew has everything plated. We eat, devouring his bacon and eggs. I don’t understand how he gets his omelets so fluffy.

“What now?” Kat asks, looking out the kitchen windows. A light snow falls onto the already tall drifts of snow that cling to the glass.

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