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You wake up in the middle of the day, sunlight pouring through the window. For a moment everything feels ordinary — until a sharp p*in rips through your belly. You gasp, clutching the sheets, your body trembling. The first contraction has begun. At first you try to convince yourself it’s a spasm, a nightmare, anything else. But then another contraction h*ts — stronger, deeper, unstoppable. Your belly hardens like st*ne, pulsing with pressure, as if something inside is demanding to come out. You writhe on the bed, your breathing breaking into ragged cries. There is no space for thought — only the rhythm of your body, pulling you into wave after wave of agony. The first climax arrives suddenly. P*in peaks, your body pushes forward, and you feel the first being slip free. You hardly have a chance to breathe before another contraction slams into you. The second one is worse. You scream, your fists clenching the sheets, sweat pouring down your face. Your body strains and b*rns until another newborn leaves you, and then the p*in resets, sharper, heavier. The third is almost unbearable. Your strength is fading, your vision blurs, but the pressure won’t stop. You surrender to the surge tearing through you, and at last the third being is born. The fourth comes with intensity. Every nerve is aflame, your heart pounds like it will burst. Your body shakes, drenched in sweat, but you cannot stop. The waves of p*in carry you forward, and another life breaks free. Then silence, just for a moment — before the final contraction, the strongest of all. It takes everything from you. You cry out with the last of your strength, pushing against the impossible. Time collapses into one endless second — and then, finally, the fifth is born. You collapse against the pillows, chest heaving, skin b*rning, hair plastered to your face with sweat. The room is silent, your body empty, your strength nearly gone. And yet you know: you endured the impossible.

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