A/N: It's an mpreg birth story, requested by someone. Refrain from reading if you are not into it or it's too graphic for you. Characters, places, and stories are all imaginary.
Junho was never supposed to be this big.
At 5'6", barely 120 pounds pre-pregnancy, he had always been lean, delicate, and fast on his feet. He looked like a toy next to Leon — the 6'5" beast of a man who had been born to lift mountains. Their relationship had always drawn attention online: “The Shaker and the Dumbbell.” But once Junho got pregnant, everything changed.
Their competitiveness twisted into something more — an obsession with growth, size, and pushing limits.
Junho didn’t just eat. He trained. He wasn’t just going to carry this baby. He was going to carry the biggest, heaviest, most glorious pregnancy ever livestreamed — and Leon, his husband, would make sure of it.
Leon wanted his baby — and Junho’s belly — to be massive.
And Junho? Deep down, he wanted to see how far he could stretch.
Their bedroom was dim, lit by a single lamp. Junho stood in front of the mirror, both hands running down the slight swell that had appeared over his waistband. His fingers pressed gently, exploring the firmness beneath the surface.
Leon came up behind him, towering like always. He placed his palms over Junho’s, then slowly moved his hands lower, cradling the subtle curve.
“Starting to show,” he murmured.
Junho’s breath hitched. “You think so?”
Leon nodded, lips brushing his temple. “I know so.”
That night, Junho recorded his first pregnancy mukbang.
He sat in front of the low table wearing a hoodie cropped just above his belly button, thighs bare, briefs tight. The camera zoomed in on the food—four bowls of noodles, two large fried chicken platters, kimchi, rice cakes, and eggs.
“Today’s menu is comfort food,” he said, smiling.
The first bite was easy. The second, warm. By the tenth, he was already slowing.
“Nghhh… wow… this hits different when there’s a baby inside,” he mumbled, rubbing slow circles on his belly. “He’s fighting for room with the dumplings…”
Leon watched silently behind the camera, arms crossed, erection visible in his gym shorts.
“Keep going,” he said quietly.
Junho swallowed hard. “Y-yeah… just… need to breathe…”
His cheeks were flushed, his forehead slightly sweaty. As he ate, he shifted in place, adjusting to the growing tension in his belly.
The gym session began at 9 a.m. sharp.
Junho arrived in a loose tee and maternity stretch shorts that hugged his softening thighs. The gym was private—just for them. Leon was already there, shirtless, guiding Junho to the center mat.
“Warm-up: hip rolls. Ten reps each side.”
Junho groaned, placing both hands on his hips and beginning to move.
With each circle, his belly curved outward slightly, tugging at the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Unnnghh… god, I feel it pulling already…”
“Good,” Leon said. “Let it stretch. Make space.”
Junho lowered himself slowly, hands gripping Leon’s shoulders for balance.
“Lower,” Leon instructed.
“I am low!” Junho hissed.
“Deeper. Hold for twenty seconds.”
His thighs trembled. Belly compressed against his legs. Sweat beaded on his neck.
“HHHNNNNNGHHH—FUCK—my hips are gonna snap—!”
Leon slid behind him, arms wrapping around his waist to support the belly.
“You want this baby big, right?”
“Y-yeah—nnnghhh—but he’s already so heavy!”
Junho let out a strained whimper, tears dotting the corners of his eyes as he held the position until his knees gave out.
The mukbang was titled: 12 Weeks In: Double Meat Day.
Junho sat with his legs apart, shirt fully off this time. His belly—still modest, but undeniably firm—rested low against his lap.
He picked up a slice of pork belly, chewed slowly, then sighed.
“Mmmmph… nnnghh… he’s pressing against my stomach already…”
Halfway through the meal, he stopped.
Leon leaned over from the side, brushing Junho’s sweaty bangs aside.
Junho exhaled hard. “I’m full already… it’s tight today…”
Leon looked down. “That’s not tight. You can go tighter.”
“I don’t wanna tear something…”
Leon smirked. “That’s what training’s for.”
Junho whimpered, reached for another bite, then hissed as a sharp kick hit his ribs.
“Ahh—fucker kicked me for trying!”
Leon laughed. “That’s your son demanding more.”
Junho rolled his eyes—but ate.
“Let’s start with deep lunges,” Leon said.
Junho got into position, face flushed.
“AAAAHHH—fuckfuckfuck—it’s pulling again—”
“I am! I think he’s dragging my spine down with him!”
Leon moved behind him, hands firm on Junho’s hips, guiding him deeper.
The stretch was agonizing.
Junho panted, arms trembling as he held the pose.
“Just breathe. You’re making space for a big baby.”
Junho whimpered, sweat running down his back. “He’s gonna wreck me…”
Week 15–16: Routine Solidified
Each day looked the same—and yet harder.
Morning: Belly rubs in bed. Junho waking with a grunt, hands immediately on his swollen abdomen.
“Oof… ughhh—he shifted again—I can’t sit up without rolling sideways now…”
Leon would kiss his belly, then lift him.
Workout: Stair stepping. Junho dragged his legs up the stairmaster, belly strapped tight with a support band.
“Five more flights,” Leon said.
“NNGH—He’s dragging my center down—I can feel my hole pulsing!”
Leon didn’t blink. “Then keep moving.”
Midday Mukbang: 4,000+ calories. By this point, Junho ate slowly, breathing hard.
“Guys, he’s growing way faster than we thought…”
He leaned back, both hands cradling his stomach as it gurgled.
Leon entered the frame, held a spoon to Junho’s lips.
“You still have another tray.”
Junho moaned, “Mmmfff—ooohhh—s-stop—he’s punching for room…”
Evening Stretch: Child’s pose. Leon pushed gently on Junho’s lower back.
Junho groaned. “Can’t… feel like he’s right between my hips now…”
Week 17–20: Belly Breakthrough
Junho shuffled into the kitchen late in the morning, his loose cotton tank top riding up halfway up his bump. It had popped now, unmistakable, taut and heavy across his middle.
He groaned as he leaned against the counter, both hands bracing his back.
“Leon… hhhnghh… he’s heavier today.”
Leon came up from behind, pulling Junho into a slow backbend, stretching the front of his body as his belly pushed forward.
“You’re holding him lower,” Leon said, kissing the side of Junho’s neck. “Means he’s growing fast.”
The breakfast workout began there—slow lunges in the hallway, arms out, each step making Junho’s belly bounce softly.
“Ow-ow-ow—nnghhh—Leon, my hips feel loose already… like they’re… coming apart…”
“Perfect,” Leon murmured, guiding him into a stretch. “We need them wide.”
Afterward, Junho lay flat on the mat, trying to catch his breath as Leon rubbed oil over his belly.
It quivered with every movement.
“Uuugh, he keeps squirming right under my belly button…” Junho moaned, hands gripping the mat.
Then came the mukbang. A seafood feast—squid, grilled eel, creamy pasta, four kinds of rolls.
Junho lowered himself onto the floor with a whimper.
“Everything presses when I sit now. I feel like the food’s already touching his feet…”
Leon adjusted the table. “We’ll add a cushion under you. You’re not stopping.”
Junho ate, breathing hard between bites, pausing to grip the edge of the table when a kick made him twitch.
“Oof—ahhh—he’s punching my ribs while I eat…”
“He’s making room. You do the same.”
Week 21–24: Too Much, Too Fast
Junho, dressed in a soft crop and maternity leggings, leaned forward as he slowly climbed each step, the weight of his baby dragging him down.
“Unnnghhh… fuck… f-feels like I’m lifting a boulder in my gut—”
Leon trailed behind, one hand at Junho’s back.
By the fifth flight, Junho had tears in his eyes.
“I c-can’t… the baby’s sliding down when I lift my knees—he’s pounding my pelvis…”
“You wanted hips wide enough for him. Don’t quit now.”
They reached the top. Junho collapsed onto the floor, both hands over his bump, gasping.
“I feel like I’m gonna crack open… He’s gonna fall out if I sneeze.”
Leon kissed his temple. “Not yet. That’s just his weight preparing you.”
Later that day, Junho groaned through squats. His thighs shook violently, belly pressing down into his legs. He barely finished the reps.
During the mukbang, he was already contracting lightly.
“Oooohhh—nnnghh—my back… my back’s spasming—Leon, he’s so low today—”
Leon sat behind him during the stream, massaging Junho’s sides as he kept chewing.
“Keep going. He needs to feel you’re ready to take him.”
Week 25–28: The Edge of Breath
Junho’s belly was massive now.
He no longer stood up on his own. Leon lifted him each morning from bed, supporting under the belly as Junho let out ragged groans.
“Nnnnghh—h-he shifts the second I move—Leon—he drags down on my insides—”
“Means he’s dropping. You’re almost at prime stretch.”
The morning stretch began with him on all fours, belly swinging low.
Junho rocked his hips back slowly, gasping as the baby shifted deeper into his pelvis.
“AHHH—AHH—nnngh—f-fuck he’s jamming into my tailbone!”
Leon watched, expression intense.
“Let him open you from the inside. You need every inch.”
Then came wall squats, Leon bracing Junho from behind as he lowered down.
“I-it hurts—Leon—my thighs can’t handle the weight—!”
“I’ll hold you. Go deeper.”
By lunchtime, Junho was already groaning from pressure.
The mukbang was curry-based. Rich, heavy. He leaned forward, belly resting on a warm towel, already full.
“I don’t know if I can… he’s already pushing up—every bite feels like I’m punching my own lungs—”
“Then breathe through it. Push the food down past him.”
He ate. He wept. He moaned.
Week 29–32: Waddle and Wreck
Junho stood at the bottom of the staircase, one hand braced against the railing, the other under his belly, holding it up like a massive water balloon ready to burst.
His bare feet were already trembling. He exhaled hard, eyes fluttering shut.
“Unnnghh… L-Leon…” he whimpered. “My thighs are locking up just from standing here…”
“You haven’t even taken a step, baby,” Leon said softly from behind. “Just start with your left foot.”
Junho groaned, shifting his weight awkwardly. The belly swayed, low and tense, the sheer pull of gravity dragging his posture down into a heavy waddle.
His left foot lifted. Just that motion made his breath catch.
“Ah—nnnhhh! Oh fuck—he shifted again—he’s jamming right into my hips, Leon—!”
“Keep going. Let him stretch you.”
Junho leaned his body forward, one palm flattening hard against the wall. His belly bumped the step as he climbed.
“Oooh god—ngghh—feels like he’s gonna CROWN just from walking…”
“You want to be open when it starts. Every stair counts.”
Second stair. Junho’s knees buckled, his jaw clenched.
“H-hnnnghh—baby’s sliding down again—Leon, I think I’m leaking—”
Leon stepped in behind him, catching the underside of the belly.
“You’re not. That’s just your body relaxing. Keep moving.”
Junho sobbed. “Nngghh… f-fuck my pelvis is on fire—I can’t lift anymore—I can’t!”
“You can. Three more stairs.”
The third stair was worse. Junho paused halfway up, body folded forward over the railing, panting like he was in early labor.
“NGHHHH—Leon—h-he’s grinding my hole from the inside—I can feel his skull rubbing my bones—!”
Leon pressed a hand to the small of his back. “Exactly what we want. One more.”
Junho screamed—half-growl, half-desperation—as he threw his leg up for the final step. His whole body shook as he reached the landing.
He collapsed into Leon’s arms, wheezing.
“Y-you f-fucking sadist—y-you love watching me fall apart like this…”
Leon only smiled and kissed his temple. “I love watching you get ready.”
Junho waddled. Every step was wide-legged, arms out, body leaning to one side to compensate.
He stopped walking without support. Leon guided him from behind, hand under the belly, whispering instructions.
“That’s it… heel first. Keep your knees open.”
“Nnnghhh—I can’t—he’s dragging against my cervix—I-I feel him pressing against my hole—”
“That’s perfect. You’re building your opening now.”
Squats happened every two hours.
Sometimes Junho cried before even starting.
“F-fuck… Leon—I don’t wanna do this—my thighs are burning—”
“We’re not stopping now.”
Junho screamed through reps, collapsing into Leon’s arms after each one, belly pulsing with tight Braxton Hicks.
Mukbangs became a test of pain tolerance.
He sweated constantly. Struggled to keep food down. The baby squirmed violently.
“I—I feel him twisting while I swallow—he’s kicking my stomach while I’m eating—!”
Leon helped him pace between bites. Junho chewed with tears in his eyes, belly jumping visibly as the baby moved.
“You’re feeding him to stretch your insides more. Don’t stop.”
Week 33–36: Painful Perfection
Junho whimpered from the couch, one arm flopped over his mountain of a belly. His shorts were damp with sweat and the dark patch of early leaking.
“I just sat down…” he muttered, eyes glassy.
Leon crouched in front of him, gently stroking his knees.
“Two hours. Come on. Let’s squat him lower.”
Junho groaned and used Leon’s arms to hoist himself up. The weight of the belly made his body fold instantly—he was practically bent over with the burden.
“Fuckfuckfuck—hhhhhhnnnggghhhh—my thighs are screaming, Leon—!”
Leon placed his palms on Junho’s hips, guiding them down.
“Go slow. Feel the pressure. Let him press down.”
Junho widened his stance. His knees buckled as his hole twitched involuntarily.
“AAAAHHH—s-something’s pushing—I can feel my insides stretch—he’s pressing into my pelvic floor—!”
“Exactly. Let it happen.”
Junho bent further, the squat deepening. The belly dropped between his thighs, resting heavy, taut and angry. His breath hitched.
“Oh god—oh fuck—Leon he’s pulsing against my hole—I can’t hold it—nnnngghh!”
“You will hold it. Let him mold the shape of the canal.”
Junho sobbed, legs shaking uncontrollably. A sharp pain twisted through his left hip.
“AHH! My joint—L-Leon I can’t—it’s burning like fire—I think I tore something—!”
Leon slid an arm under his belly and pulled him up slowly.
“You held it for forty seconds. That’s longer than yesterday. You’re almost there.”
Junho collapsed on the mat, moaning, tears streaking down his flushed cheeks.
He reached down between his legs, groaning in panic.
“H-he’s so LOW—I can feel my hole stretch open just from that squat—I feel like I’m going to start pushing if I move wrong…”
Leon kneeled beside him, hand flat on Junho’s belly, voice calm.
“You’re stretching beautifully. Just let the ache work through you. Every squat is shaping your body to take him.”
“I’m gonna fall apart before he even crowns…”
“You’ll fall apart during,” Leon whispered. “That’s the plan.”
Every part of Junho’s body hurt.
His belly sagged. His thighs trembled. His hole throbbed constantly.
Stretching became cruel. Deep lunges turned to sobbing sessions. Child’s pose made his lower back snap audibly as Leon pushed gently into it.
“HHHHNNNNNGGGHH—STOP—Leon—he’s gonna pop out—!”
“You’re just loosening up.”
Each night he was packed into bed with three pillows, groaning.
“H-he’s pounding down every time I breathe—Leon—he’s wrenching me open with his feet…”
“Let him. He’s stretching your birth canal for himself.”
Even during mukbangs, Junho openly moaned now.
“Ahhh—ahhh—fuck—he’s rolling mid-bite—Leon I can’t—I feel like I’m gonna rip—”
Junho chewed with tears in his eyes, belly visibly rippling with movement.
Week 37–39: The Breaking Point
Junho stood barefoot on the mat, sweat clinging to every inch of his pale skin. His belly hung low in front of him like a loaded sack, the weight of the baby and food making his center of gravity staggeringly low. His legs trembled as he lowered into a squat, hands behind his head, tank top pulled up to keep it from clinging.
“Fffuck…” he hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut. His thighs quivered.
Leon stood behind him like a personal trainer from hell. “Lower.”
“I c-can’t— nghhh— he’s pressing on everything—”
“You want to push this baby out clean or not?”
Junho let out a choked groan, teeth baring. “Nnnnnngghhh—AHH—!”
He dropped lower, belly nearly brushing the mat, then collapsed to his knees panting. Leon knelt behind him, massaging his hips.
“No—oh god—” Junho gasped, one hand gripping Leon’s forearm. “It’s—hurts—he’s pushing on my spine…”
“You need to widen those hips. This baby is coming through you like a freight train.”
Junho whimpered and slowly stood again. His posture sagged forward — the weight of his belly made him lean, swaybacked. As he squatted again, tears stung his eyes.
He groaned through each rep.
“Nghh… nghh… ngghhh—fuck—h-he’s moving—”
“Good. That’s pressure training.”
Junho no longer spoke much.
He groaned his way through the day.
Every movement felt like it would trigger labor. Leon stopped him from walking alone.
“AHHHHHH—nnnnh—he’s so low—Leon I swear he’s coming—!”
“You’re not there yet. Just hold him a little longer.”
Junho rocked through every Braxton Hicks contraction, sometimes on the ball, sometimes on Leon’s lap, belly pulsing.
The final mukbangs became legendary. Junho ate shirtless, belly glistening, half crying between bites.
“I can’t even think… he’s slamming my cervix while I chew…”
Because he wanted the world to see how far he’d stretched.
And what kind of pain it took to grow something that big.
