Chris sat in the car for a long time afterward. The A/C blew cold air across his face, but his skin was hot, and sweat beaded at his temple. He had gotten into a public bathroom to take the pregnancy tests and was now staring at the results. Six tests. Six identical windows showing the same unmistakable verdict. He kept picking up the instructions, reading the same sentence again and again, as if grammar might give him a way to escape the truth.
“Two lines indicate pregnancy,” he silently read in one. “A plus sign indicates pregnancy,” he read in another. “Digital readout: “PREGNANT.” He checked each device in turn, moving his lips as if cross-examining a witness. Two lines. Plus. PREGNANT. Again. Again. Again.
He suddenly felt his breathing shortening, and his throat felt as if air was too thick to get through it. He pressed a hand against his chest, feeling it rise and fall in desperation, then moved his hand lower over the subtle curve on his abdomen as though he could erase the truth with touch. “It’s impossible,” he whispered to the empty car. “I’m a man. Men don’t…” He began, but the last word dissolved because the list of signs and symptoms didn’t leave space for doubt. He remembered the nausea, how smells turned traitor, the ache in his lower belly, and how his suits felt tighter by the day. The evidence was there, making even the lawyer in him stop arguing.
He took a moment to calm himself down and almost laughed at the ridiculous situation. Despite his former wonder at the idea of having Ryan’s baby, now he couldn’t help but sigh as the feeling collided with fear. He saw the beauty and absurdity in the arc of his life. He thought of Renee’s hands on his face and Rory’s chubby fist grasping his finger, remembering the precious moment when the child had been born. Having kids had always been their dream, but now that it was Chris carrying a kid who didn’t belong to her, things were different.
These thoughts led him to wonder how to tell Renee. She would definitely feel betrayed twice over by the act and the consequence. Knowing she was mad at him was bad enough, and expecting her to see him pregnant with someone else’s child was a whole different story. However, the risks extended beyond that. He had no idea how he would walk into court with a belly that would someday announce itself before he did. He couldn’t face all the neighbors knowing that Ryan’s baby was growing inside him. He didn’t even know how to explain it to himself.
Chris rubbed his abdomen, feeling the firm bump below his navel, and let out a long, disbelieving sigh that felt as if his soul wanted to escape his body. However, his lips instinctively—and against his will—curved into a smile at the ridiculous fact of it all.
“How did I get myself into this mess?” He said, and the memories of the camping trip immediately flooded his mind, replaying the scene where Ryan’s cock stretched him so nicely. “Okay, right. I know how it happened,” he added, trying to cover his dread with humor.
When he arrived home a while later, he found the hallway lamp on and the living room rearranged as a silent announcement that Renee was still angry. There was a folded pair of pajama pants on the couch’s arm, a neatly stacked pile of sheets, and a pillow waiting beside them. The message was clear, and Chris stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath and accepting the consequences of his actions. He knew he couldn’t expect a better reaction.
Chris changed into the pajama pants and made the couch as comfortable as it would allow. He slid beneath the sheet with his hand resting over his belly as if it were the only true thing in the room. He tried to focus on something else, but facts devastated him. It was his fault, and he didn’t mean to cause this mess. However, he couldn’t honestly deny that he had loved the camping trip that had started it all. It was a fact.
*
Chris and Renee functioned like the practiced team they had always been as the days passed. They worked together to get the bottles warmed, diapers folded, and the laundry relay run without dropped batons, but words between them were thinner around the edges. She answered what needed answering; he kept to briefings about dinner and schedules. The house was quiet the rest of the time, hurting them, but things worked well enough to avoid fights.
Despite the strain, they didn’t want to let everybody know the issues between them. So, on Halloween, they strung paper bats and a friendly ghost across the porch, set a bowl of candy on a little table, and smiled for pirates, princesses, and a dinosaur that refused to leave without three lollipops. Chris praised the costumes with Rory in his arms, and Renee handed out the candies. Their hands accidentally brushed together a couple of times, and both preferred to ignore it.
“I’m going up,” Renee said coldly once the kids stopped coming. Chris only nodded and looked at the couch waiting for him another night.
Things were tense in the house, but the enormity of the situation followed him everywhere. He’d be writing a motion and realize his thumb had been on his middle, tracing slow circles over his shirt for a full minute. In the elevator, he felt a wave of dizziness peak and pass, making him cup his belly as if to steady both of them. His mindset had instinctively changed to show more protective manners toward his belly.
During a partner’s briefing, he flinched when the smell of someone’s cinnamon tea hit him wrong, and a coworker couldn’t help but lean in to check on him. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Chris responded, unruffling his tie. “I didn’t sleep. Newborn, you know.”
The coworker smiled kindly at him, and he smiled back, then stared down at his notepad, where he’d absentmindedly written PREGNANT in the margin with lawyerly block letters and underlined it twice before blacking it out. He blushed and covered the word to avoid others from seeing where his mind was at.
At home, random touches multiplied. He’d be rinsing bottles and realize his hand had drifted low. He’d be on the floor beside Rory’s play mat and notice the subtle way his middle pushed against his T-shirt. He would look around, half‑guilty, half‑protective, and then keep playing with Rory as his mind thought about having another baby in the house. Despite everything, Chris couldn’t help but think that having Ryan’s kid was cool.
*
Across the street, Ryan tried to outrun his reflection. He woke each day a little thicker, in ways only he could track: the waistband dug deeper into his waist, the denim had started to protest over his hips, and the odd fullness and tenderness in his chest made him wince constantly. He told himself it was stress, salt, or Autumn’s slower pace. However, every morning, he found a new challenge to prove it was something else.
He turned sideways in the mirror, pressed his hand to the faint but undeniable curve that had replaced his abs, and felt the tender weight below his navel. He sighed, noticing the subtle changes everywhere: a tightness in the area where his pants met his hips; his ass that had always been prominent now felt heavier and broader in how the fabric fit; and thighs that had a new thickness on them. None of it was dramatic, but it was impossible to ignore.
In addition, his odd symptoms persisted, only not as violently as before. Smells could still blindside him, and he still had to run to throw up some mornings. He could be starving to death one minute and too tired to eat anything the next. It was a rollercoaster where he never knew what each day would bring for him.
Tammy watched him with love, trying her best to make him feel comfortable—toast instead of eggs, mint tea instead of coffee, a hand at his back when he paused mid‑hallway to breathe. She hadn’t been happy about him having sex with Chris, but she trusted it had only been a one-time thing—better to leave it in the past. She was still hurt and mad, but after several years of marriage, she knew better than to make Ryan feel worse about it all.
Meanwhile, their boys kept Ryan active. Josh wanted his dad to play with him in the backyard until dusk, shouting for the man to come and catch him. Jeremy wanted to be a backpack and clung to Ryan’s torso, laughing against his neck. Ryan complied, slower, steadier, and sweating sooner, but smiling anyway. Even when his back twinged or his stomach ached, he refused to disappoint them, kneeling so they could climb over him, building Lego towers or tracing shapes on his belly as if it were a new game. He was tired to the bone, but his love for them made him smile when everything else in his life felt like it was crumbling.
Work was getting worse by the day. Tool belts dug into the softening curve of his middle until he had to loosen them mid‑day. When he bent to measure or lift, the snug fabric of his work jeans cut into his waist, and he found himself grunting, standing a little slower, and pretending to be okay. His T-shirt rode up when he reached overhead, exposing a crescent of skin and the new curve, drawing a few smirks from the crew that made his ears burn. He bought larger sizes and pretended it was a brand change, insisting the supplier had altered the cut.
His once‑smooth movements on scaffolds turned more careful because balance felt different with the weight at his middle shifting unexpectedly. Climbing ladders took more effort, and his thighs brushed together in a way they never used to. He moved more slowly through the site, delegating the ladder work with a joke about “management weight.” The crew noticed, but they said nothing beyond the usual teasing on a job site—comments about heavier lunches or winter weight—but he could feel their eyes on him when he leaned or stretched.
*
Chris’s symptoms finally eased by mid-November. The nausea receded, but his mind stayed on full alert at any sign of it coming back. He was more energetic and careful than a cat, finishing his filings, arguing a motion despite having two hours less sleep than ideal, and realizing afterward he had not once gripped the edge of the podium over dizziness. He could only smile at simple but meaningful events like eating bacon for breakfast without consequence.
However, despite those tiny victories, he still felt a massive burden on his shoulders: he needed to speak to Renee about the pregnancy tests. They had wanted a big family, but getting pregnant with Rory had been hard, even with fertility treatments. He wanted to believe that the news about them welcoming a baby into their family in a few months would make Renee happy. But three weeks on the couch had taught him that hope without honesty is only a softer name for delay. He could not hand her this truth in a wrapped box with a sign: “I’m pregnant, isn’t it wonderful?” without first owning the fracture that preceded it.
It meant that there was one person who could look him in the eye and understand without judging him. So, on November 20, he called Ryan. They picked a grocery store lot that emptied after dinner to meet without raising unnecessary but expected suspicions in their wives. When both men arrived, they stayed in their cars for a while, fighting their own thoughts and inevitably remembering their passionate night together. Then, they got out and faced each other across two feet that felt like a mile.
“Hey, how are you?” Chris said.
“Hey,” Ryan responded, sliding his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been fine. Working and being with the family. Things were tense for a while after you opened your mouth about the camping trip,” he added, rolling his eyes to emphasize his exasperation.
“Oh. I’m sorry about that. I honestly couldn’t hide it anymore,” Chris said, taking a deep breath and shrugging. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been sleeping on the couch for the last few weeks. I don’t think you’re having it as rough as I do. Renee’s… mad, to say the least.”
Ryan laughed and relaxed. “It does make me feel better. You and your big mouth deserve the punishment. But I’m not having it easy. Tammy’s driving me crazy. She thinks I’m on some sympathy… whatever.” He snorted. “She says I’m acting like I did when she was pregnant. Which would be hilarious if it wasn’t—”
“Yeah, about that,” Chris interrupted and stared at the painted line between stalls. “Renee said the same. And I—” He swallowed. “I took some tests.”
Ryan arched his brow in shock. “What? Why would you do that? Please tell me you’re not buying their nonsense,” he said, sharper than he meant.
“I couldn’t breathe without knowing,” Chris said, blushing in shame. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pregnancy test, and the screen still showed the word “PREGNANT.” He held it out. “They’re all like this. Six of them. Positive, again and again.”
Ryan didn’t take it at first. He stared as if it might go off. When he finally accepted the plastic wand, his fingers were careful, clearly terrified. The word there—PREGNANT—felt like a truth he refused to accept. “These things are wrong all the time,” he said, not even blinking.
“Not all of them, not six in a row,” Chris answered. He turned and reached for the passenger seat, bringing out a pharmacy bag. “I got you some in case you want to prove me wrong. Or right. I don’t know which is worse.”
Ryan stared at the bag as if it were a snake. “You and Tammy,” he said, furrowing his brows and blushing in a mix of anger and panic. “You’re both out of your minds.” He took the bag anyway, opening it to find six boxes in it. “This is insane.”
“I know,” Chris said. “But give it a try. If they come back negative, then you’ll have nothing to worry about,” he said, shrugging and biting his lower lip. He wanted to say, “I’m scared, and I’m also weirdly happy about your kid, and I don’t know how to be a father and a pregnant man at once,” but he preferred to keep those words to himself.
Ryan nodded, turning around in silence and quickly getting into his truck as Chris watched him go. Chris moved his hand over his lower middle, unaware that Ryan was doing the same on his way back home.
The next day at lunch, Ryan’s mind couldn’t focus on his crew’s stories. He stood at the edge of the site trailer carrying the pharmacy bag Chris had given him, laughing at himself as he went to the small bathroom on site. He stared at the boxes for a while, nervously opening them all and reading the instructions as if they were a foreign language. He tried to laugh, imagining himself calling Chris to tell him the universe had played a trick on his hormones, but he could not make the picture hold.
He clumsily took the first, second, and third tests, trying to convince himself that it was ridiculous. The fourth, fifth, and sixth times were more careful. Then, as the seconds passed, he stared at the tile grout, at his boots, and at the small window above. When he looked back, the answer was there. Six tests, all showing the same results: positive. His eyes widened as he picked up one of the tests, staring at it in shock.
He looked down at his belly pushing against the T‑shirt and couldn’t help but place his hand there. He didn’t know how to feel. Part of him was scared, but something within him was relieved to learn the truth. He lined the six tests up on a paper towel like evidence, with shaky hands, and took a photo to send to Chris with no words.
A minute later, his phone buzzed with a message. “I told you. What do we do?”
Ryan stared at the question, not knowing how to respond. He turned off the screen and slid the phone into his pocket.
*
Two days later, on November 22, he went to the same clinic he had gone to a few weeks before, quickly getting into the doctor’s office with deep concerns and confusion about his body.
“Doc, I need you to listen,” Ryan said, sitting forward and squeezing his knees. He explained everything—the nausea, the smells, the fatigue, the ache low in his abdomen, and how his clothes had stopped fitting. He hesitated and then added, “I took six pregnancy tests, and they all came back positive.”
The doctor’s expression showed skepticism, kindness, and curiosity all at once. “Those tests are sensitive, but they’re not perfect,” he said carefully. “There are rare situations—certain tumors, lab errors, hormone cross‑reactivity—that can cause false positives.”
“Six?” Ryan asked, firmly but not combatively. “All the same?”
The doctor exhaled and nodded. “We’ll run a quantitative blood test for hCG, and we’ll see.” The clinic was quiet on Saturday, so ten minutes later the doctor came back with the results. “It’s positive,” he said, rereading the page as if it might correct itself if given a second chance. “And not just barely.” He stopped, lifting his face as if discovering a secret. “Let me check something.” He clicked through the chart, found the labs from weeks prior, and gasped in evident shock. “I dismissed these results back then because they didn’t make sense. But it makes sense now.” He rubbed his temple and looked at Ryan. “There’s only one way to be sure what we’re dealing with. Follow me.”
They went to a nearby room, and Ryan looked around in confusion as the doctor talked. “Normally, a tech would do this, but we don’t have time to wait for him,” the doctor said, wheeling the ultrasound machine over and squeezing gel onto a probe.
Ryan lay back, lifting his shirt to expose the firm curve that had replaced his chiseled abdomen. It wasn’t large, not compared to photographs he’d seen of later months, but on his body it was prominent enough. He winced when the cool gel touched his skin, and the doctor whispered an apology before setting the probe down.
The doctor turned the screen on, and black and white shapes appeared immediately. His face shifted as he moved, pressed, and adjusted the angle to explore Ryan’s insides. Then, his mouth opened, his eyes blinked, and his whole face turned pale. “No way!”
“What?” Ryan demanded, panicking. “Doc—what?”
“Give me a second,” the doctor said, clearly having a hard time comprehending what his eyes saw. He swallowed, clicked the freeze frame, then the measuring tool, and finally turned the monitor slightly so Ryan could see the screen. “You are pregnant, Ryan,” he said without warning. “You are very pregnant. I count six babies, about 10 weeks along.” He hit a button, and six marks appeared on the screen. “You are pregnant with sextuplets.”
The world thinned to a whistle in Ryan’s ears. He stared at the screen where he saw the distinctive shapes. He had been to Tammy’s every ultrasound during both pregnancies, so he knew a baby when he saw one. “Six,” he repeated, but the word didn’t fit in his mouth. “Sextuplets?” He laughed once, sounding like a disbelieving bark that turned into something raw. “That’s not—I can’t—.”
The doctor didn’t know what to respond as Ryan’s vision blurred, and the last thing he felt was the cold gel over his middle and his own voice repeating the word as if repetition could change it: “Sextuplets.” Then the room went black, clean and complete.
John hated this jet. He had been on it countless times before, and even though he had enjoyed the luxury it offered compared to commercial flights, it felt impossibly small now. The leather seat pressed into him at all the wrong angles, the armrests dug into his sides, and no matter how he moved, there was no way to get in a comfortable position—not with his full-term-with-triplets pregnant belly in the way.
The rounded middle was massive and heavy, resting on his lap and straining the fabric of his tailored clothes to the limit. His pants were barely holding on around his rounded hips, fat ass, and thickened thighs. And his shoes squeezed his swollen feet so much that his toes were numb. Every movement felt restricted, and every breath slightly tighter than the last.
He wasn’t supposed to be flying—even less in this specific jet—but he had to.
Four weeks into what should have been a peaceful paternity leave, John had gotten an unexpected call. His boss hadn’t even tried to soften the order for him to fly overseas to seal a deal. This contract was too important and valuable, and John was the only one who could close it. He had spent nearly a year building that relationship, negotiating every detail, and shaping it to bring in millions. There was no one else, so John had gone, despite how pregnant he was.
His tailor had worked miracles, adjusting his suit to accommodate his thickened body without sacrificing professionalism. John had been careful with the tiniest details, and it had worked. The meeting had gone flawlessly—signatures exchanged, hands shaken, and smiles all around. It had been a success beyond expectations, and he should have been celebrating.
Instead, John was trapped in a seat that felt designed for someone half his size, flying home with a belly that tightened under his hand, telling him something was wrong.
The first contraction had hit him during the meeting. It had been subtle enough that he could hide it, brushing it off as discomfort and forcing himself to stay focused. People had stared at him whenever he groaned softly, but within seconds, he had regained composure.
His doctor had been clear days ago when John mentioned the unexpected business trip, explaining that the babies still weren’t in position and he easily had another week before labor started. Those words sounded like a lie now as the triplets moved restlessly inside him.
John slipped off his shoes, flexing his toes against the floor as he tried to find some kind of comfort, but it didn’t help—nothing helped. The cabin felt smaller by the minute, as if the walls were closing every time the babies moved inside him. He rubbed slow circles over the taut surface, trying to soothe the triplets—or maybe himself.
They still had two more hours before landing, according to the flight’s ETA. He convinced himself that there was no way he was giving birth on the plane because labor took time, hours even. The thought alone made his pregnant belly twist, but he couldn’t tell if the sensation was due to anxiety or another contraction. Still, he took a deep breath and tried to remain calm.
A few minutes later, the illusion shattered.
The next contraction crashed into him violently and unstoppably. A raw cry tore from his throat before he could even think to hold it back. His entire body tensed, and every muscle went rigid as he lurched forward, digging his fingers into the seat. The pain was suffocating, flooding through his belly and back in such a crushing way that it made his vision blur. It stole the air out of his lungs, forced his chest to stutter and gasp, and left him shaking so badly he could barely stay upright as he tried—desperately—to ride it out.
The contraction felt endless, and when it finally loosened its grip, it only faded enough to let him breathe again. He collapsed back against the seat. His whole body was weak and overstimulated, but something was different now. Something felt heavier and lower—wrong, but he couldn’t tell what it was. The weight in his belly had dropped, pressing down into his hips and causing immense discomfort.
John swallowed hard and tried to move, thinking maybe he just needed the bathroom, maybe he could resolve the issue, control it—but the second he pushed himself up, he felt warmth spread between his legs. He froze instantly, and his heart beat faster against his ribs as he looked down in shock. Liquid was spilling out, dripping fast, and pooling across the floor beneath him, soaking into his shoes and spreading wider with every second.
His brain lagged, refusing to process what he was seeing even as his body already knew. “No…” The word barely made it out before he finally realized what had just happened: his water had broken.
A sharp, panicked breath broke from his chest as his hands flew to his belly, clutching it tightly as if trying to hold everything inside. “No—no, no, no…” he kept repeating as the panic overtook the logic he had tried to write into his mind. “This cannot be happening.”
He tried to calm down, reasoning that labor still took time. Even with his water broken, he had hours—he had to have hours, enough time to land and get to a hospital.
But the contractions hit him without breaks—closer and stronger by the minute. He breathed through them as best he could, rubbing his belly and whispering under his breath as if the babies could hear him and might somehow wait a little longer.
Then, the cockpit door opened suddenly, and the captain, Gavin, came out looking concerned. The man was tall and broad, wearing his dark pilot uniform that somehow always fit him perfectly despite the long hours. His dark brown hair looked slightly messy from the flight, and his deep blue eyes immediately locked onto John.
“Oh, shit.” The curse came out breathless as Gavin took in the scene before him: John bent forward in the seat, the enormous belly visibly tightening beneath stretched fabric, water spread across the floor, and pain written across his face. “That’s—that’s not good,” he added.
“No,” John replied weakly, trying to laugh but failing as he was terrified, “it’s really not.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, as memories replayed in both their minds. They had spent countless hours in this jet, crossing oceans and time zones while Gavin sat behind the cockpit door with his impossible calm. Somewhere between the late-night flights, long conversations, and moments when their eyes met for a second longer than necessary, a bond had formed between John and Gavin.
However, John had gotten pregnant from a one-night stand with another man, and everything between him and the captain had become a little more complicated. John had almost canceled when he realized which jet the company had assigned for the trip. But somehow, the fact that Gavin was there made John feel a bit better despite the pain.
Another contraction hit before John could say anything else, cutting him off with a strained groan as he doubled forward again. The pressure inside him was impossible to ignore, pushing downward with such force that he feared his hips might snap.
“Hey, calm down,” Gavin said, kneeling beside John and holding his hand.
The touch felt instinctively familiar. Gavin had always been casually physical with John during flights—a hand on his shoulder after turbulence, brushing his fingers against his arm while leaning over the seat, or small things John had probably overthought far too many times. The pregnant man couldn’t deny that Gavin’s hand, which wrapped around his, felt like it belonged there. That realization hit him harder than he wanted to admit.
Half an hour passed, and all John could do was groan, squirm, and beg the babies to stay inside him a while longer. At some point, Gavin had moved even closer without John noticing. He was still holding John’s hand, while the other rested gently on the massive pregnant belly, talking him through contractions in a calm voice that somehow gave John a brief moment of peace despite everything happening around them.
John hated how comforting the touch felt. Things between them had become complicated months ago, but none of that seemed to matter anymore when Gavin’s hand stayed wrapped tightly around his through every contraction.
The pain kept coming faster and harder, stacking on top of itself until there was no real break anymore—only waves crashing into waves, blending into the next. John couldn’t even tell when one contraction ended and another began. His belly went rock hard as the pressure built, suffocating and dragging low inside him.
It wasn’t only the pain anymore, but also the massive pressure crushing his hips from inside. He felt one of the babies moving lower, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“I—I think…” he choked out, clawing his fingers into the seat so hard his knuckles ached. “I think one of them is coming—” Another contraction slammed through him before he could finish, ripping a louder, more desperate groan out of him as his whole body trembled.
Gavin looked pale—completely overwhelmed—but he knew John needed help.
The pregnant man barely registered being helped down, slowly moving his heavy and uncooperative body onto the floor. Gavin carefully helped him out of the ruined clothes, trying very hard not to stare. John’s body looked overwhelming up close—giant belly trembling with contractions, flushed skin damp with sweat, and thick thighs forced apart by the pressure building inside him. It was impossible not to stare in shock.
Meanwhile, John could barely focus on what was happening because the pressure was too intense—unbearable, stretching his hips and forcing them apart as the first baby positioned himself to start coming out.
He tried to hold it back, but it was impossible. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to push, drowning out every rational thought he had left. “This—this isn’t happening—” he gasped, shaking his head weakly as panic showed in every word he said.
“It is,” Gavin said calmly. “You have to push, okay? Just listen to your body—” The words should have sounded ridiculous coming from a pilot with no medical training. But John listened because it was Gavin, and somehow the man always sounded like he knew what to do even when the world around them was falling apart.
John still didn’t feel ready—not even close. He felt terrified, out of control, completely unprepared for how intense the situation was, but his body didn’t care.
The next contraction hit like an explosion inside him, and the pressure spiked so sharply it forced a broken, desperate cry out of his throat as he finally gave in and pushed.
He couldn’t even process the burning, the stretching, and the pain. It was too much all at once. It felt like his body was being forced open from the inside, as if something huge was pressing through him inch by inch, and it made his entire body shake. His hands scrambled for anything to hold onto, gripping tight as he followed Gavin’s instructions through gasps and cries, barely able to think or breathe.
It hurt so much it blurred everything else out. Each push felt like it lasted forever as the stretch got worse instead of better. John’s body resisted and gave in at the same time. He could feel the baby moving lower, stretching his canal wider with each push. The pressure turned sharp, almost burning, making him cry out louder, more openly, unable to hold back anymore.
“I can’t—I can’t—” John choked as tears blurred his vision. But the next contraction hit before he could even try to stop.
“Yes, you can—keep going!” Gavin said firmly, holding John’s hand so tightly their fingers almost hurt. “You’ve got this, John.”
John gathered the little strength he had and kept going. Each push drained him more, leaving him shaking harder, and his breath came in ragged gasps as his whole body strained. The pressure worsened until suddenly it shifted. The stretch peaked so intensely it made him cry out again, louder than before—and then, all at once, the pressure broke.
Relief flooded through him so suddenly that it almost made him dizzy. The baby was out.
The sharp sound of a newborn crying filled the cabin, cutting through the chaos and giving John hope that he could somehow manage the situation. His body sagged instantly, completely spent, struggling to catch his breath, but at least the baby was out of him.
John’s arms trembled as he reached out, taking the baby carefully, holding him close against his chest. For a moment—a tiny moment—everything else faded. The pain, the panic, and the chaos disappeared as he looked at the crying life in his arms.
Before John could even process it properly, Gavin was already beside him. “You did it,” he said breathlessly, sounding almost stunned.
John looked up weakly and realized Gavin’s hands were shaking too.
Then, another contraction came, ripping a groan from his throat as his belly tightened again, reminding him—harshly—that he wasn’t done. There were still two more babies in line.
By the time the second baby was crowning, he was barely holding himself together. His whole body felt wrecked, overstretched, and shaking, and every muscle was sore and exhausted. But the contractions didn’t slow down. If anything, they came faster, pushing him forward whether he could handle it or not.
Gavin had to return to the cockpit because they were close to the airport, but neither of them seemed to like the idea of Gavin leaving. John’s exhausted fingers tightened around his sleeve before he could stop himself.
For a second, Gavin just stared at him. “I’ll be right back,” Gavin promised.
John had to deal with the contractions on his own while holding his first baby tightly against his chest. Having Gavin there for the first birth had helped him a lot, but he understood that he had to manage on his own while the other man took them safely onto land. Without Gavin nearby, the cabin suddenly felt colder and much too large despite how cramped it actually was. John hated how quickly he had gotten used to hearing that calm voice beside him.
The stretch came back just as intense. John’s body was already sensitive and strained, which made everything feel sharper and harder to endure. He cried out again, louder, and more desperate, unable to hold anything back as he pushed through it, gripping the floor and shouting so loud that it seemed to make the whole plane tremble.
It took everything he had left, but eventually, the second baby came out, and he barely managed to catch him. His hands were shaking, and he was drenched in sweat as he pulled the newborn close to his chest.
The jet began its descent, but he barely registered it as another contraction hit—stronger than the last. The third baby was coming in a rush. He barely had time to react before his body took over again, pushing hard and fast in a way that made it impossible to resist. The pressure made him cry out as his body stretched beyond what felt like its limit.
The third baby came quicker and harder, giving him no chance to prepare as his body worked on its own, pushing with a strength that left him shaking and breathless. And then, it was over. The final baby slipped free just as the jet came to a stop, and his body finally released the last bit of that unbearable pressure.
Voices rushed in around him immediately as paramedics entered the cabin. Their hands moved quickly, taking control of everything he no longer had the strength to manage. He barely registered it, but in the middle of the chaos flooding the cabin, John saw Gavin.
The pilot stood just beyond the paramedics, and his blue eyes stayed locked on John with open relief written all over his face. Then Gavin smiled, and John melted. Despite the pain still wrecking his body and the exhaustion dragging on every muscle, John felt something warm spread through his chest, so suddenly it almost hurt because Gavin was still there.
Mac stepped out of the county lockup after 9 months with a duffel bag, a bad attitude, and a body that barely felt like his anymore. He was there for a bank job that had gone wrong in the dumbest possible way. Mac had spent years making bad choices that paid fast and ended badly, but this time, he’d gotten caught after a robbery that should have been simple. Since nobody had been seriously hurt and it wasn’t his worst offense, he’d landed with a shorter sentence instead of something life-destroying.
Mac had spent most of his adult life being the man people stepped aside for. At 39, he looked strong, with broad shoulders, a thick chest, and a solid frame. His gray t-shirt stretched across his upper body, and his tattooed arms still looked strong enough to handle trouble.
Everything below that was another story. Mac’s belly pushed so much in front of him that it looked wrong on the rest of his frame. It was so big and firm-looking that it almost didn’t seem real. It wasn’t soft weight gain or the belly a man got from beer and bad food; Mac’s rounded middle sat high, and so impossibly taut that it shone. Faint stretch marks traced the sides, and his belly button had popped outward, leaving no chance of pretending any of this looked normal.
He wore the same shirt as the day he was arrested, which used to fit loosely, but now it had surrendered. The fabric rode so high that a wide strip of stretched bare skin stayed exposed no matter how much he tried to tug it down.
Below, his old sweatpants stretched tight over wider hips and an ass that had become ridiculous. Mac had always been thick, but his butt looked absurdly huge now—perfectly round and so full that the fabric strained, and the seams looked like they were under active threat.
He walked slower—full on waddle—than he used to, with his legs set wider apart. One of his hands pressed on the small of his back before he even noticed—it was instinctual.
“Dad?” a female voice called as he walked outside, and Mac looked up.
Ruby, his 20-year-old daughter, stood near an old SUV at the curb, lifting one hand while the other rested against her pregnant belly. She looked so much like him it was almost funny, especially because she was 8 months pregnant with a baby boy.
“Wow, Dad,” she said, widening her eyes, pointing directly at his belly.
“What?” Mac snapped back, pretending not to know what she was talking about.
“You’re bigger than me,” Ruby added, gesturing between their bellies.
Mac rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not.”
Ruby laughed out loud. “You absolutely are.”
Mac then properly noticed Ethan, Ruby’s boyfriend, standing nearby, trying hard not to stare openly, even though he obviously was. Ethan was 24, tall, athletic, broad-shouldered, and handsome. Mac disliked him on instinct, even though the young man was great.
Ethan quickly looked up when Mac caught him staring.
“Problem?” Mac asked.
“No, sir,” Ethan replied.
“Don’t call him sir. He hates that.” Ruby snorted. “But seriously, what happened to you?”
“Prison food,” Mac responded quickly.
Ruby stared at his belly. “Prison fed you an entire family?”
Mac opened his mouth with a sharp comeback ready, but it died instantly when his abdomen seized so hard it felt like a steel band had cinched around his middle. The pain hit sharply, folding him forward before he could stop himself.
“Fuck—” Mac shouted breathlessly.
Ruby’s teasing vanished. “Dad? What’s wrong?”
Mac stayed bent, breathing through clenched teeth. When the pain eased, he forced himself upright, sweaty and furious at the fact that they had seen that. “Indigestion,” he said.
Ruby frowned. “That looked worse than indigestion.”
“Jail food,” Mac said, wiping a forearm over his face. “Everything in there tastes like punishment and regret.” Right after saying those words, something moved in his belly, stretching his exposed skin in a way that made Ethan’s expression change while Ruby missed it.
Mac yanked his shirt down over his middle, but it rolled right back up. “Damn it,” he said.
*
The ride home was miserable from the second he tried getting into the SUV. Ruby and Ethan exchanged a look while Mac wrestled himself into the back seat, grunting as he maneuvered his massive middle into a comfortable enough position. The seatbelt barely fit, and he argued about it. Then, Mac spent the next several minutes aggressively tugging the strap away from his belly as if it had attacked him.
By the time the car started moving, Mac was sitting with his knees spread wide. His belly took up a ridiculous amount of his lap, and he instinctively rested his hands at the top. He was in intense discomfort, groaning at every bump the car hit on the road.
“Gas,” he said, trying to explain the groans escaping his lips.
“You made that exact face when you had Braxton Hicks,” Ethan whispered, looking at Ruby but checking Mac’s face through the rearview mirror.
Mac groaned again, angrily this time. “Shut up! I’m not having contractions.”
Ruby smirked. “He didn’t mean it that way, Dad.”
Mac rolled his eyes, and without even realizing it, his hands started moving over his taut belly, caressing it almost tenderly. Ethan noticed Mac’s actions in the rearview mirror, and Mac was aware of Ethan watching him.
“Watch the road,” Mac said harshly.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Sorry, Mac.”
By the time they got to Ruby and Ethan’s place, Mac was in an even worse mood. Getting out of the SUV took longer than getting into it, which only irritated him more. He planted one hand on the door frame, the other against his lower back, and levered himself upright with a grunt he immediately pretended nobody had heard.
He walked into the house, waddling heavily and grunting every other step.
*
Hours later, they sat at the table for dinner, and Ruby had apparently decided that welcoming her father home meant feeding him enough to make up for every miserable prison meal he’d had in the past 9 months. Mac complained about the amount of food, then sat down and started eating like a man who hadn’t eaten in years.
Mac tore through one plate, then another, then started building a third while barely slowing down. Mac didn’t seem to care that anyone was watching. His appetite had been strange for months, even if he’d never admitted that to himself. Some days, he wanted everything he could get his hands on. On other days, certain smells made him irrationally angry.
“Do they not feed people in jail?” Ethan asked carefully.
“They feed you,” Mac said around a mouthful. “Whether that qualifies as food is another discussion. I haven’t had a good dinner, so don’t mess with a starving man.”
Ruby laughed harder, but after a while, even she started staring. Mac had eaten enough for three adults, then leaned back in his chair with a long groan and started rubbing his belly. His hands moved over the taut skin, instinctively soothing the discomfort while he breathed through a heavy fullness that looked extremely familiar.
Ruby froze for a second, then a grin spread across her face. “Oh, now I get it.”
Mac narrowed his eyes. “What now?”
“Couvade syndrome,” she explained, looking at Mac’s belly. “You missed me so much that you developed pregnancy symptoms.”
“Fake,” Mac replied quickly, groaning as his belly growled.
“Oh, come on. Let’s check. Exhibit A: emotional eating.” Ruby sat up straighter. “Exhibit B: belly rubbing,” she added, and Mac pulled his hand away from his middle. “Exhibit C, mood swings,” she continued, pointing at him.
“I do not have mood swings,” Mac responded, almost offended.
“Dad, you do,” she said, gesturing at Mac’s belly. “And you are literally bigger than the pregnant person in this room.”
Before Mac could respond, something moved within his belly, enough to form a visible bump on his skin. Ethan saw it, and Mac absolutely felt it. His face changed for half a second as his hand moved back to his belly.
“The food’s not settling in right,” he said. “It’s your fault for asking too many questions.”
*
Later that night, Mac lay in the bed in the guest room. The mattress felt like heaven, but Mac couldn’t sleep. Lying flat made it harder to breathe with his belly pressing upward into his chest. Lying on one side made his hips ache. Rolling over had become an irritating full-body effort. But the bigger problem was the so-called indigestion that refused to leave him alone.
The cramps kept coming in waves, deeply uncomfortable. Every time one hit, his belly hardened until it felt unnaturally firm. He blamed dinner, too much food in one sitting. He blamed prison food for ruining his digestion permanently.
Lying awake in the dark gave his brain time to think, and eventually his thoughts drifted somewhere he absolutely did not want them going: Darius, his cellmate.
The guy was younger by at least 10 years, maybe a little more, but built like he had been assembled specifically to make other men feel inadequate. Darious was huge, standing tall at 6’6” and so broad that everything seemed small beside him—broad shoulders, thick chest, powerful arms, dark skin, close-cropped hair, a sharp jaw, and a cocky expression that somehow made him look even more dangerous.
Mac had hated Darius immediately—that was the official version. But the unofficial version was a lot more complicated. The first night Mac stayed in prison, things had changed a lot as Darius came closer than Mac would’ve allowed in any other circumstances. But the young man had looked at Mac as if knowing how things were going to go. Within seconds, Darius’s massive black cock was fully hard, longer and thicker than anything Mac had seen.
Months later, Mac still remembered that first time—how Darius slowly pushed such a monster cock deep into Mac’s hole, stretching him beyond reason. Prison was weird, lines blurred, and needs got handled—it was what Mac told himself. But the same kept happening night after night, even more as Mac’s belly started growing.
Mac would still deny every second of that if asked directly. The other inmates had noticed more than enough to make his life miserable, but he insisted that he hated Darius and being with a man was not for him.
As the months passed, the inmates noticed Mac eating more, complaining about his stomach, and looking thicker around the middle. The jokes started then.
“King got you carrying his black baby, Callahan?” one tall guy asked one morning.
“Damn, Callahan, you sure that’s prison food?” another one said later.
“Go fuck yourself!” Mac had shouted in response after the teasing.
First, he knew men did not get pregnant, and even then, he insisted that nothing had happened between him and Darius. A pregnancy was impossible.
Months later, he still insisted on the same, even while turning in bed as he couldn’t fall asleep. Around 2 in the morning, the “indigestion” was worse, and another cramp hit hard enough that staying in bed became impossible. Mac sat up swearing and breathing through it until it passed, then forced himself out of bed. He headed for the kitchen, wearing nothing but tight underwear stretched across his exaggerated lower half.
Looking into the fridge, he found the milk, pulled the jug from the fridge, and stood there drinking straight from it while rubbing his belly with his free hand as if the motion helped.
Then, Ethan walked in, stopping suddenly at the sight.
“What?” Mac said, firmly.
Ethan tried not to stare at the nearly naked ex-con standing in his kitchen with a massive bare belly and obvious discomfort written all over him. “Ruby wanted strawberries,” he said, a little too quickly. “Cravings, you know.”
Before Mac could say anything else, another cramp slammed into him much harder than the others. The milk jug hit the counter with a heavy thunk. “Hell—” He bent forward sharply, wrapping his arms around his belly.
Ethan moved immediately, grabbing Mac’s arm in case he lost his balance.
Mac jerked his arm away on instinct—pride stronger than common sense. “I’m fine. It’s only a bad case of indigestion. Nothing else.”
Ethan stared at him in disbelief.
Mac straightened slowly, breathing harder than he wanted to, and grabbed the milk again as if reclaiming it somehow restored his dignity. He went back to bed and tried to sleep, but the so-called indigestion refused to leave him alone. The problem was that the cramps kept coming. Mac rolled from side to side trying to get comfortable, grunting into the pillow, shoving at blankets, sweating despite the cool room. His massive belly made every position miserable.
*
By morning, he looked awful. He was sweaty, exhausted, and in a filthy mood. He had barely gotten out of bed when another cramp hit hard enough to make him stop and grab the dresser. “Fuck–fuck,” he hissed.
It eased after a moment, leaving him breathing heavily. His belly felt strange—heavy in a different way, lower somehow, and restless at the same time. He blamed the food, so he headed for the bathroom to see if that could fix his issues.
The walk to the bathroom felt way too long. By the time he got inside and shut the door, he was sweating badly enough that his shirt stuck to him.
“Unbelievable,” he said through clenched teeth. “I eat one decent meal—”
Mac grabbed the counter as another cramp hit, breathing hard, then dropped onto the toilet. And then, things got worse in a way that made Mac understand that whatever this was, it was not normal indigestion.
Until that point, he had been stubbornly insisting the problem was his stomach. But sitting there on the toilet with sweat running down his face, he became aware of a different pressure building low in his body. It was heavy, deep, and wrong in a way he couldn’t explain.
“What the hell?” he whispered breathlessly.
Before he could think any further, a sharp pain spread through his belly, violent enough to rip a shout out of him before he could stop it. Mac grabbed his belly with both hands as the pressure inside him became overwhelming, and his vision blurred.
Then, something happened that made his entire brain seem to short-circuit. A sudden rush of warmth burst out of him. Mac physically jolted on the toilet. His whole body went rigid as liquid spilled out of his ass. He looked down in wild confusion, trying and completely failing to understand what had just happened. His exhausted brain kept reaching for explanations.
Another pain slammed into him immediately, stronger and more overwhelming than the last, and this time the terrifying pressure came with it. Something was moving low in his body—not gas, and not digestion.
“No,” he said again, louder as panic took over. “No. No, no, no—”
The next cry that came out of him was loud enough to wake the house.
Ruby was at the bathroom door within seconds. “Dad?”
Mac barely sounded like himself when he answered. “Something’s wrong!”
“Open the door!” Ruby shouted.
Another brutal pain hit him before he could answer. Mac shouted, gripping the side of the toilet until his knuckles went white. “Something’s coming out!”
There was a stunned silence on the other side of the door, as Ruby tried to understand.
Then, Ethan came with the key and Ruby opened the food, freezing when they saw Mac sitting on the toilet, looking ready to give up under the immense pressure. Ruby looked at him, confused and panicked. Ethan looked back at her with the expression of a man having the worst possible confirmation of something he had hoped he was wrong about.
“I told you,” he said. “I told you your dad was pregnant. I told you I wasn’t crazy.”
Ruby stared at him in shock.
Ethan pointed at Mac, who cried out again as another contraction visibly tightened his belly until it looked hard as stone. “He’s in labor,” the young man said.
“No, I am NOT!” Mac shouted, because somehow denial was still fighting for its life.
Another contraction hit him, and he felt something big moving deeper into his hips, while something else still moved in his belly. He tried to process the sensations, and even through his denial, some things started making sense. The word pregnant finally settled into his mind. And if he was indeed pregnant with Darius’ babies, it was more than one considering the size of his belly. So he had no option but to let his body do whatever it needed to do to give birth.
Meet the Big Guy - Part 1 by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Kevin wandered around the living room with his phone in one hand and a smile on his face, looking far too pleased with himself for someone who was supposed to be responsibly watching over his parents’ house for the weekend. The place felt strangely quiet, peaceful even, especially because his younger twin brothers, Mike and Mitch, weren’t stomping around or yelling at each other over protein shakes and football highlights.
He couldn’t remember the last time the house had been this calm, but he liked it.
His feet dragged softly across the floor while he checked another message on his phone, and his smile grew without him even noticing. He leaned briefly against the back of the couch while reading it again. His blue eyes scanned the screen even though he had already memorized every word. Being alone meant he could openly stare at the profile photo of the person texting him. Nobody was there to judge him, especially his brothers.
Kevin was pretty athletic. At 5’10” and around 160 pounds, he had a lean, toned frame. His shoulders and chest were decent, and his torso stayed slim all the way down to his waist—accentuated by his oversized dark blue tank top that hung loosely over his torso. Jogging, hiking, and moving around had given him natural definition in his arms and abdomen without making him bulky.
He was a healthy, attractive young man, but some parts of him made people stare.
His hips were broader than most guys with his frame, giving his lower body smoother lines that stood out under everything he wore. His ass was naturally full and rounded—great genetics, most people said, making even loose athletic shorts strain a bit. The gray shorts he wore hugged tightly whenever he moved, stretching over the thick globes of meat that looked unfair on someone with such a lean upper body.
Billy's Choice - Part 10 by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Billy felt emotionally lighter after spending a fantastic weekend with his parents and Callum. But he had reached the point in pregnancy when he could no longer remember what it felt like to move through the world without planning every single motion. Standing up required momentum and a dramatic groan that made Callum laugh. Rolling over in bed had become a full-body effort involving pillows, more groans, and Callum’s help every time.
When Billy was almost 32 weeks pregnant, he weighed 228 pounds. He felt heavier than he had ever imagined a human body could feel, but somehow he was also happier than he had expected to be; he didn’t admit that part easily.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Billy said one morning, looking at Callum, and struggling to pull sweatpants over his thickened thighs.
Callum leaned against the bedroom doorway, shirtless as usual, clearly enjoying the scene. “Looking at you like what?”
“Like I’m adorable or something. That smile is annoyingly cute,” Billy said, groaning.
“You are adorable,” Callum replied, smiling even more.
“I’m enormous and clumsy,” Billy snapped back.
“And that is part of why you are adorable,” Callum responded, winking playfully.
Billy rolled his eyes and lost his balance when he tried to tug the pants higher. He had to grab the dresser to support himself.
Callum pushed himself off the doorway, and his hands immediately rested on Billy’s hips to support him. “Hey, easy. Let me help.”
Billy sighed. “I had it.”
“You absolutely did not,” Callum added, softly caressing Billy’s sides.
Cooper had seen attractive people before. He had grown up in a world full of them—actors on screens, athletes on posters, guys in the locker room who seemed genetically unfair. But the young man standing in the doorway of the Kavanagh house made all of those comparisons feel flimsy. Cooper felt his attention lock onto him with an intensity that surprised even himself. He had never looked at a man this way—just openly staring.
The best part was seeing him with the children.
The quadruplets shouted “Daddy!” with an explosive joy that sounded as if they had been counting down the days until this person returned.
The young man laughed immediately and bent down to meet them, but the movement wasn’t easy. His body shifted slowly. A soft groan slipped out of him as he leaned forward, instinctively moving one of his large hands to brace his rounded belly while the other wrapped around two of the boys at once.
“Hey—hey, careful,” he said through a breathy chuckle as the triplets crashed into the group as well. “One at a time, boys. Daddy’s still big and slow right now.”
He scooped up two children against his sides, and their legs wrapped around him easily. Another boy clung to his shoulder while a fourth pressed his face against the man’s neck. Even with the awkwardness of the movement, the affection between them looked beautiful. He kissed one of their foreheads, then another, whispering greetings between small laughs.
“Austin—wow, look at you. Adam, did you grow again? Axel, buddy, easy—Daddy’s belly’s right there.” He lowered his head to kiss Bryce’s hair, softly rubbing the boy’s back. “Missed you guys,” he said. “Two whole weeks. That’s way too long.”
His hand never seemed to leave his belly for long. Sometimes it seemed to support its weight to keep his balance. Sometimes it simply rubbed the round surface absentmindedly, like a habit his body had developed. The gesture was unconscious and strangely protective.
Cooper stood frozen in the hallway, holding the last two babies, watching this unfold like something unreal. The scene definitely looked like a family reunion, but it clashed violently with everything his brain thought was normal. This guy didn’t look old enough to have so many kids, and then there was his rounded belly and thick chest. It was all too much.
So, Cooper finally cleared his throat—soft but loud enough to echo. It was the type of throat-clearing that said, very politely, he existed—and maybe someone should explain what exactly was happening.
The big man looked up again.
Those amber eyes landed on Cooper again and brightened immediately. A wide grin spread across his face—charming, dangerously disarming. “Oh—sorry,” he said with a laugh. “I forgot there was a responsible adult in the room tonight.”
The way he said it made Cooper’s stomach flip. He didn’t know if he should take it as a compliment or an insult. He preferred the former.
The man carefully untangled himself from the cluster of children and straightened. The motion came with another grunt as he shifted his balance, and his right hand immediately moved to the small of his back before he began walking toward Cooper. His steps were slow and slightly wide, not awkward exactly, but clearly adapted around the weight of his body.
“I’m Ryder,” he said, extending a hand once he reached him. “Ryder Kavanagh. You probably already know me as their ‘daddy,’” he said with a chuckle and gestured toward the babies in Cooper’s arms. “My parents probably hired you. I didn’t tell them I was coming.”
For a second, Cooper didn’t respond. He openly stared.
Ryder smiled again and leaned forward without hesitation, reaching to take the twins from Cooper’s arms. The transition was smooth. Daniel and Dawson shifted against Ryder’s chest like they had been waiting for the moment all evening. Their small bodies relaxed instantly, pressing comfortably into him as if they had returned to the exact place they belonged.
One of the older boys pointed helpfully. “Daddy, this is Cooper.”
“Yeah,” another added. “Cooper fed us.”
Ryder looked back at Cooper, smiling, and Cooper’s knees felt briefly unreliable again.
“Well then,” Ryder said, “thank you for keeping the circus running.”
Cooper opened his mouth, but nothing useful came out.
Ryder noticed the confusion on his face almost immediately and couldn’t help but chuckle. “You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem,” he said. “There’s a photo wall right there if you want proof I’m not some random man who walked in off the street.”
Cooper turned slowly. One of the framed pictures showed Ryder standing beside Richard and Stacey. He looked younger there—leaner through the waist, and his face slightly less tired. But it was undeniably him.
“High school,” Ryder explained. “Back when things were simpler.” He gestured vaguely toward the room. “Things have changed a little since then.” He nodded toward the children surrounding him and looked down at his middle. “Okay, a lot.”
Cooper finally nodded, though the gesture felt delayed.
“Did a mouse eat your tongue, Cooper?” Ryder asked playfully as they all moved into the living room together. “I’m kidding. You look like a nice guy. A quiet one,” he added, and Cooper blushed because he couldn’t articulate any words.
Meanwhile, the children barely contained their excitement now that Ryder was there.
“Daddy, I built the tall tower!”
“Daddy, Bryce read two books!”
“Daddy, Cooper said I wash hands good!”
Ryder listened to every word. He crouched when he had to, straightened shirts, and kissed cheeks. Cooper found himself watching quietly from a short distance away, unable to look anywhere else. Ryder looked natural with the children swarming around him, like a center of gravity they all orbited.
But the longer Cooper watched, the stranger the picture became. Some of the boys touched and leaned against Ryder’s belly casually as if rubbing it. One even kissed the front of it before resting his head there. And the twins in Ryder’s arms were almost desperately patting and kneading his chest, as if trying to get something from him.
Ryder eventually eased himself down onto the couch with careful movements. He spread his legs to give his belly room to settle, adjusting his position until the weight rested comfortably. The twins remained cradled in his arms like it was the best place in the world. The rest of the children gathered around him almost immediately—some on the floor with toys, some leaning against his legs, and one resting across the couch cushions beside him.
Cooper sat across from them, still silent.
Ryder eventually glanced up and caught him staring. “Hey, silent guy,” Ryder said gently. “Thanks for helping tonight. Seriously. My parents needed a break.” He gestured around them with a tired smile. “First night out in years, honestly. I try to come home every other weekend while finishing college, but they never leave anyway,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “They insisted I must complete my degree despite everything that had happened in the last few years. I’m in my senior year now, so I’m almost there.”
Cooper tried to process the information, but his cock stirred in his pants. It was impossible to control the reaction with such a hot man before him.
Ryder shifted slightly and suddenly let out a low groan. “Ugh—here it comes.” The sound was instinctive, pulled from deep in his chest.
Even from across the room, Cooper saw movement in Ryder’s belly. “You okay?” Cooper asked, finally speaking.
Ryder took a slow breath and laughed. “Yeah. I’m fine,” he said. “I’m just very pregnant, and it’s almost time.”
Cooper blinked. His brain refused to interpret the sentence.
Ryder tilted his head slightly as he calmed down. “I’m guessing my parents didn’t explain that part,” he said.
Cooper shook his head. “Explain what part?” he asked, more confused than before.
“Okay. Don’t freak out, please,” Ryder said, shifting the kids in his arms to push his belly forward. “I’m pregnant. I’m due with a pair of big boys any day now.” He said it the same way someone might comment on rain. “All these guys?” he continued, nodding toward the children surrounding him. “Carried and delivered by me.”
Cooper felt a sudden spike of alarm. For a brief second, he wondered if he had let a very confident but very delusional man walk into a house full of children. But the boys were calm, clearly attached to him. And Ryder’s body matched the story far too well.
Ryder watched Cooper’s reaction. “I know,” he said. “You’re thinking I’m crazy because men can’t get pregnant.” He shrugged. “Most can’t.” He winked casually. “But apparently, I came with extra equipment. I’m a man, fully, but I can carry children.”
Cooper stared. “You what?” he said, barely audibly.
Ryder laughed. “Let me show you.” He shifted the twins in his arms and tugged his hoodie and shirt up over his head in one motion—careful not to jostle them too much while he worked the fabric up and off. “It’s part of the beauty of bearing children,” he added.
Cooper marveled at the sight of the bare, taut middle and the massively rounded chest with thick, darkened nipples.
For a moment, the babies fussed, but Ryder talked softly to them and adjusted his hold. He guided them closer against his chest, supporting the back of each tiny head. “They love Daddy’s milk straight from the tap,” he said as the babies opened their mouths instinctively, turning their faces toward him, and within seconds each found one of his nipples.
The moment they latched, their little bodies relaxed almost all at once, curling their fingers against Ryder’s skin while they began to drink. Ryder let out a slow breath that sounded half like relief and half like habit, as the tension in his body eased. He cradled one of the babies more securely while the other rested over his belly. The room grew quieter around them—the twins nursing while Ryder relaxed—as if both he and the babies had slipped into a routine their bodies knew perfectly well.
Cooper watched in stunned silence. His mind felt like it was collapsing under the weight of it all. The more he tried to make sense of the scene, the more confused he became. He tried to speak but momentarily forgot how to do so.
Ryder smiled kindly. “Let me tell you the whole story while these big guys have their meal,” he said, looking down at Daniel and Dawson. “Before you ask, I’m turning 22 on March 19th, and I’m pregnant for the fifth time,” he said casually. “I know—I’m too young to have so many kids. I get that a lot. But things have just happened. Kind of.”
Cooper’s mind was working so hard to keep up that he could almost hear it work.
“I got pregnant for the first time a few days after turning 18, during my senior year of high school. It was March 26th, 2022,” Ryder said. “My best friend and I had a night we probably should’ve planned better. No protection and too many rounds of reckless decisions.”
Cooper’s eyebrows shot up, and Ryder smiled.
“Neither of us knew it was possible,” he continued. “Three months later, I graduated high school already pregnant with quadruplets,” he said, looking down at Adam, Austin, Aaron, and Axel, who were playing with toys on the ground. “I started college already pregnant—a freshman and pregnant—and they were born on December 31st that same year. It was a long labor, a very loud house, I must say.”
Cooper could barely breathe at this point.
Ryder chuckled softly and shifted a little deeper into the couch as the twins continued nursing, settling into the story now that Cooper seemed willing to listen instead of running for the door. “So after the quadruplets were born, I remained good friends with their dad, but we didn’t have anything serious,” he said, nodding toward the oldest boys again. “Then I went back to campus thinking I had already survived the craziest thing that would ever happen to me.” He shook his head slightly at the memory. “Turns out that was only the warmup.”
Cooper’s eyes widened, already guessing what was coming.
“I got pregnant for the second time only a week after returning to college. It was January 7th, 2023,” he said, looking at Brandon, Bryce, and Blake. “I was still figuring out how to carry a backpack without the huge pregnant belly and thought I couldn’t get pregnant so soon,” he said with a small laugh. “I had been seeing this guy from one of my classes. Nice guy. Total nerd. We dated for a couple of months after we found out about the pregnancy, but remained friends after the babies were born.” Ryder shrugged. “Triplets that time.”
Cooper leaned forward immediately. “So, it was a different dad?”
“Yep,” Ryder said, sounding almost proud of Cooper’s disbelief. “At that point, I thought my body just liked doing things in bulk.” He rubbed his belly as if remembering the weight of that pregnancy. “They were born on October 17th, 2023, during my sophomore year. I came home from campus to have them there too. My parents had already learned how things worked by then. Labor was still brutal, though. Three babies take their time.”
Cooper stared at him. “You went through that twice in less than a year?”
“That’s exactly what my dad said.” Ryder laughed and continued without much pause, comfortably talking about it. “Five days after delivering those triplets, October 22nd, I ended up pregnant again,” he said, smiling as if it were an achievement. “Different guy that time, a college classmate. Nothing serious, only a one-night stand. He had seen me pregnant, and deep down, we knew what would happen. Even though we didn’t say it.”
Cooper blinked. “Hold on. You mean you already knew?”
“Yeah,” Ryder said with a smile. “After the first two pregnancies, it became pretty obvious my body had a pattern.” He gestured loosely at Cameron, Caleb, and Carter. “Anyway, that third pregnancy was another set of triplets, born July 29th, 2024.” He chuckled a little. “By that point, I was basically a professional at being pregnant. I could tell the difference between normal cramps and early labor by how my back felt.”
Cooper shook his head slowly, and a laugh escaped him. “You weren’t joking about the pattern,” he said in pure wonder and less shock.
“Trust me, after your third set of multiples, you start getting efficient.” Ryder grinned. “The fourth pregnancy started only three days after delivering those triplets. August 1st,” he said, closing his eyes as if keeping track of the timeline. “I was on summer vacation before my junior year, and the dad of Brandon, Bryce, and Blake came to visit them. We talked for a while. One thing led to another.” He shrugged with a playful smile. “Next thing I knew, I was pregnant again.” He nodded toward the two babies nursing calmly in his arms, Daniel and Dawson. “These two were born May 9th, 2025.”
Cooper leaned forward again, staring at them as if seeing them differently now. “So they are full brothers with the older triplets?”
“Yep,” Ryder said. “Daniel and Dawson.” He adjusted them slightly as they drank, instinctively supporting their small backs. His hand drifted back to his belly again, rubbing slowly as he continued the story. “And then,” Ryder added, “literally the next day, my best friend from high school came to visit the quadruplets.” His smile softened at that memory. “He was the first guy who ever got me pregnant. We’ve stayed close through all of this—”
Cooper stared. “Wait. The next day?”
“Yeah,” Ryder said with a casual shrug. “At that point, we both knew the odds.” He laughed quietly. “Turns out the odds were pretty good.”
Cooper let out a stunned breath. “You got pregnant again the day after giving birth?”
“Pretty much,” Ryder said. “My body apparently doesn’t believe in breaks.” He glanced down briefly at the tight roundness of his belly before looking back at Cooper. “So here we are,” Ryder finished calmly. “Valentine’s Day 2026—I’m due with twin boys again. All 353 pounds of pregnant me.” He shifted his weight slightly and inhaled through his nose as another small wave of pressure passed through him. “I came home tonight,” he added, “because I’ve been having contractions on and off for a few hours already. I want these kids to be born at home like all their older brothers,” he said, visibly strained after the light contraction.
That sentence landed like a brick.
“Wait! You’re in labor?” Cooper asked, turning pale.
Ryder waved it off. “Early,” he said. “Nothing to worry about. I’ve done this four times already, so I’ll be fine,” he added—far too casually, considering the strain in his belly. “I must admit that not having my parents here will be different. But I’ll manage.”
Cooper stared at him for several seconds before speaking again. “I… I could help,” he said, barely audible. “I mean, if you want to,” he said more firmly.
Ryder blinked. “Are you sure about that?”
Cooper straightened a little. “Yeah,” he said, completely certain this time. “I’ll help.”
Ryder smiled slowly. “Good. Thanks,” he said. “But I think we still have a little time before things get exciting.” He glanced around the room at the kids. “Plenty of time to get everyone to bed.” Then he looked back at Cooper. “And maybe actually introduce ourselves properly.”
Something in Cooper’s stomach tightened warmly at the suggestion, and before he could stop it, a wide smile spread across his face. “Sounds like a plan,” he said.
Ryder shifted slightly on the couch and let out a small breath. “Well,” he said, glancing around at the scattered toys and the cluster of boys leaning against his legs, “looks like you volunteered for the full experience tonight. Strange way to spend Valentine’s Day.”
Cooper chuckled softly and pushed himself up from the couch to help gather a few toys while Ryder finished feeding the babies. “Valentine’s Day actually got very interesting over the last few minutes,” he said with a new confidence that he had lacked since Ryder’s arrival.
Ryder grinned, admiring Cooper up and down.
Over the next couple of hours, they worked together to care for the twelve kids. Cooper helped the older boys brush their teeth while Ryder spent some time with the younger ones after feeding the twins. His motions were slow and took real effort, but he pushed through the strain only to hear the kids laughing. It was an opportunity for Cooper to walk in and help.
Ryder attempted to stand up, exhaling through his nose as his heavy body lifted off the couch. “I’m still mobile,” he said as Cooper approached and extended his hand. “That’s a good sign. You had to see me at the end of the first pregnancy,” he laughed and patted his belly.
Once Ryder was on his feet, the boys followed them around the house in small groups while bedtime routines unfolded. Some needed pajamas, some needed a quick diaper change, and others insisted on showing Ryder toys they had gotten while he was away. Ryder handled all of it with such calm that it impressed Cooper more with every passing minute. But it was evident that the strain of labor was slowly advancing.
At one point, Cooper stood beside Ryder in the kitchen while they poured small cups of water for the older boys before bed. Ryder leaned one hip against the counter, resting one hand against his middle while he breathed through another faint tightening.
“You okay?” Cooper instinctively reached out to touch Ryder’s belly, but stopped.
Ryder nodded, taking a slow breath. “Yeah. They’re just kicking to remind me that they’re coming out soon,” he said, giving his belly a gentle rub. “They’ve got strong opinions already.”
Their conversation deepened as they moved side by side through the house.
Ryder asked about Cooper first. “I think I should know more about the man who’s looking after my kids for the night,” he said, almost playfully.
Cooper chuckled and nodded. “I guess you should,” he admitted. “I’m a senior in high school. I turned 18 two weeks ago, and I’m still figuring things out,” he said, shrugging a little while struggling to change a diaper. “College might happen eventually, but I don’t feel ready yet. I might start something of my own. Maybe a small business. I’ve been saving up from babysitting and jobs like this.”
Ryder listened carefully, nodding and stepping up to help with the diaper. “That sounds smart if you’re not sure,” he said. “Most people rush into college because they think they’re supposed to. But in my opinion, college is pretty useful sometimes.”
Cooper looked slightly relieved while talking about it. “What about you?” he asked.
Ryder shifted again, guiding one of the younger boys toward the bathroom sink before answering. “Senior year now,” he said. “Almost done. After graduation, I’m moving back here full-time. I already lined up a remote job so I can work from home.” He glanced around at the kids as he said it. “I want to be here for them. All the time, not only every other weekend.”
The way he said it made Cooper watch him differently. The big guy, who had seemed almost overwhelming when he first arrived, suddenly looked like someone deeply devoted to the tiny people moving around him.
Eventually, the conversation drifted toward relationships. Ryder asked casually if Cooper had someone special waiting for him back home. “A girlfriend? Or maybe a boyfriend?”
Cooper laughed and hesitated before answering. “Not really,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not so sure about what I want. Probably just someone who loves me and is willing to risk their life to be with me,” he said, blushing.
Ryder raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”
Cooper chuckled and looked down at his own crotch. “Let’s just say there’s something about me that tends to scare people off.”
Ryder looked down and realized what Cooper meant because even the bulge at rest was impressive. “Ah,” he said, clearly piecing things together faster than Cooper expected. “That kind of situation. Too much?”
Cooper blushed even more and nodded. “Far too much, I’ve been told.”
Ryder chuckled again, smirking. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me,” he said. “There are people who would love to be with a guy like you. Trust me.”
Cooper blinked at that, feeling his cock stirring in his pants again, but he regained composure. “Thanks. And what about you?”
“I clearly haven’t had much luck keeping anyone around either. You’re looking at the evidence.” Ryder gestured loosely toward the kids surrounding them. “Their fathers weren’t interested in a long‑term relationship. Two of them eventually ended up with women,” he added calmly. “They care about the kids, but romantically? Not exactly the right match.”
Cooper nodded, noticing small details about Ryder he hadn’t fully absorbed earlier—the soft way he talked to the kids and how he sounded so domestic despite his strong and imposing look. Ryder, for his part, seemed equally impressed by Cooper’s calm. The way Cooper picked up a dropped toy before anyone asked. The way he gently guided the toddlers toward the bathroom without raising his voice.
Something subtle began to build between them.
But as the evening continued, Ryder’s body reminded him more and more frequently that the night wasn’t going to stay calm forever. Every so often, he paused mid‑sentence and inhaled slowly, gripping the edge of a table or the back of the couch while his belly tightened visibly beneath his shirt. Most of the contractions were mild. He breathed through them, smiling at the kids afterward as if nothing had happened, until one of them broke the pattern.
They were standing in the living room gathering blankets when Ryder suddenly stopped moving. His eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth clenched together as a stronger contraction hit him. His hands instinctively grabbed the underside of his belly while he leaned forward slightly, breathing in short, controlled bursts.
Cooper stepped closer immediately. “Ryder? What is it?”
Ryder let out a long breath once the contraction passed. “Okay,” he said softly. “That one was real. They’re coming. They really are coming.” He straightened carefully and forced a smile for the kids. “Alright, boys. Time for bed.”
The quadruplets groaned in protest until Ryder added, “And when you wake up tomorrow morning, you might have two new baby brothers.”
That changed everything. The boys erupted in excited whispers.
Adam looked up at Ryder with concern. “Daddy, you gonna be okay?”
Ryder crouched slowly in front of him despite the weight of his belly and brushed the boy’s hair back. “Of course I will,” he said. Then he glanced over his shoulder toward Cooper with a smile. “Cooper’s here. He’s going to take very good care of me.”
Cooper felt his face heat instantly, but he nodded anyway. “Yeah,” he said. “I will.” He looked around at the boys and added more firmly, “I’ll take care of all of you, your daddy, and the new babies. I promise.”
That seemed to satisfy them.
Ryder pushed himself upright again with a grunt. They all walked down the hallway toward the bedrooms. And somewhere in the middle of the walk, Cooper looked at Ryder and realized that this Valentine’s Day was about to change his life forever.
Would you be interested in doing a NON-fetish commission? I've used original artwork cartoon characters of myself to promote my real estate business and people love it. I would be interested in a full-body piece I could use in advertising. Thanks
Hey there! Sure! I guess you mean a fully clothed drawing or something similar? I can totally do that! And that sounds great!!!! haha. A good way to caught people's attention for sure! DM me and we can discuss the details!
I’m officially opening slots for commissions, so if you’re interested in something fun, just DM me. And… well, after keeping the same rates for quite a while, starting today my prices will be slightly increasing. Nothing huge, just a small adjustment.
Also, I wanted to do a tiny challenge, hehe. I’ll be leaving three questions below (all of them about my stories), and the first two people who send the correct answers through the “Ask Me Anything” will receive one free month of my Patreon subscription on the Additional Tier.
Just a small thank-you and a little game to have fun.
So, here they are:
In Wrestling the Changes, the MC got pregnant by 5 different men. What were their names?
In Life Lessons, the MC created an OnlyFans account to earn some money. What was the @ he used?
In A Small Bite / Only One Bite, how many kids did the MC give birth to in his first pregnancy?
Good luck! Let’s see who remembers the stories best. The race starts now, hehe.
Dad, Babies & Drama - Part 2 by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Additional Tier Exclusive
Colton groaned loudly, turning red as a tomato, and veins popped across his neck from the intensity of the sound. The pressure between his hips was so overwhelming that he couldn’t think clearly, unable to understand what was happening. His hands twisted in the sheets as his back arched, and sweat ran down his skin. His heavy belly hung beneath, still shaking and pulling at his spine, feeling on the verge of ripping apart each time it tightened.
His wife, Lisa, was still frozen in the doorway, staring in shock at her husband on all fours, shaking, panicking, and clearly in the middle of something neither of them could explain.
Colton noticed her, and his head jerked up. “Help me, please,” he rasped in complete panic. “What’s happening to me?”
Down the hall, Carter shouted, “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”
That snapped Lisa into motion. She slammed the bedroom door shut and locked it. “Stay outside! Go watch TV or something,” she shouted before looking at how Colton’s body clenched again. “I’ll help your dad,” she whispered, almost as if trying to convince herself there was something she could do in this situation.
“I can’t—” Colton choked out as the pressure shoved lower. “I can’t stop it.”
Lisa rushed to bring towels from the bathroom, not fully understanding what was happening, but feeling that taking action was better than standing there frozen. By the time she got back, the baby had visibly moved lower, and Colton felt it with horrifying clarity. Deep down, he knew something was moving out of him, and the instinct in his body was forcing it downward.
“It burns,” he groaned into the sheets. “Fuck, it burns. Tell me what’s happening.”
Brothers - Part 2 by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Jason’s eyes widened, and for a second, he only stared at Archie as if the younger man had to be joking. “You cannot be serious,” he said, keeping his voice low but firm.
Archie looked too pleased with himself as he casually leaned one shoulder against the dresser. “I’m very serious,” he replied.
Jason shook his head, already feeling a headache forming. “No. Absolutely not. First of all, Austin is my boyfriend. Second, you’re Austin’s brother. And third, I’ve already risked enough by sneaking into his room tonight.”
Archie waved a hand dismissively, as if Jason were making a huge deal out of something incredibly minor. “You’re making this sound way more dramatic than it is.”
Jason stared at him. “It is dramatic,” he whispered back. “It’s insane.”
Archie laughed, unbothered. “Oh, please. It’s not like I’m asking you to run away with me.” He tilted his head, studying Jason’s face. “It would be one time. Austin would never know. It’s not like you’d suddenly be emotionally cheating on him because of one stupid, reckless decision in the middle of the night.”
Antonio, Billy, and Callum went to a nearby bistro. Billy slid into the booth first, carefully given the size of his belly, and gently holding it as if it were fragile. The tabletop pressed lightly against his middle even when he scooted back because there was more of him now. There was more bulk at the hips, a more pronounced curve at the ass, and more roundness pushing forward. The space his bigger balls took between his legs also made him more aware of how small the spot felt for his new shape.
Callum couldn’t help but smile at the cute scene and took the seat beside Billy, in an unspoken choice to protect him, while Antonio sat opposite, evidently nervous as his fingertips drummed against the table.
The server poured water, kindly smiling at them and noticing the tension. Billy sipped to calm the heartburn that always hovered after a walk, but also to get the courage to face this meeting. His free hand kept moving over his middle, stroking and rubbing in a nervous habit that soothed him and quieted the babies’ fluttering. Callum noticed and rested his hand on Billy’s thigh to show him some support, even though he didn’t want to be there with Antonio.
“So,” Antonio began, a bit too casual considering the situation that tied them together, “twenty‑four weeks, right? How are the babies?” He said, looking down at Billy’s middle.
“They’re healthy,” Billy said. “Strong heartbeats, large for their stage, but that’s good.”
“Billy’s been doing everything right to keep them safe,” Callum added firmly, staring right into Antonio’s eyes as if trying to kill him with invisible laser beams.
“Good. Since the babies are mine, I want them—” Antonio began with an arrogant tone that made Billy’s stomach churn and Callum’s jaw tighten.
“They’re Billy’s,” Callum cut in, turned red with anger.
The politeness thinned, and the three guys stayed silent for a long minute. Billy felt heat crawl up his chest as the babies moved harder; the strain of sitting upright too long made his hips ache, and the soreness in his lower back reminded him how real this crazy situation was. He tried to focus on the menu, but his emotions were all over the place.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” Callum finally said, taking a deep breath and moving his hand away from Billy’s thigh.
“It’s okay. I’m trying my best here despite the situation,” Antonio said, but his voice made it sound like an accusation. “I’m trying to be part of it.”
Billy touched Callum’s thigh under the table before the taller guy could reply, then looked at Antonio. “I want you to be involved,” he admitted, looking down at his belly and then at Callum. “But I need calm. The babies need calm.”
Callum took a deep breath, Antonio nodded, and Billy could only look at them, unsure of what to do or what to say. Every second was more awkward, and Billy could barely handle it. Then, the server returned to take their order. Billy got plain pasta, extra butter, and natural juice. He ate slowly, aware of how Antonio watched him shift in his seat, scanning how his chest stretched the shirt, and how his bulk pinned him between bench and table.
Callum remained silent for the rest of the lunch while Billy and Antonio talked about childhood memories. It was evident that there was still a connection between them despite the tension, but Callum couldn’t tell if it was their old friendship still alive or a spark of something new—the spark of the passion that made them conceive the babies. Whatever it was, Callum preferred to focus on his meal and order Billy’s favorite dessert to make him happier.
When the check came, Antonio reached for it, but Callum had already placed his card down. Their eyes met, and for a moment, it felt like two invisible forces collided between them. It was evident there was a silent fight for Billy, and the pregnant guy could only rub his belly and sigh as he watched the scene unfold.
“We’ll talk again soon,” Antonio said as they exited the coffee shop. He leaned in, kissed Billy’s cheek, and softly caressed the round middle. “Take good care of our boys,” he whispered, loud enough for Callum to hear.
Billy blushed and nodded as Antonio walked away. Then, he looked up at Callum and saw the guy’s red and infuriated face. “I’m sorry,” Billy said, aware of how awkward the whole lunch had been. “I know it’s not easy, but… he’s the father of the babies.”
Callum took a deep breath for the millionth time and faked a smile to make Billy feel better. “It’s okay. I get that. You’re free to do what makes you feel better,” he said, drowning his anger to give Billy the peace he wanted. “Now, we have some things to get for Christmas Eve and the following days.” He quickly changed the topic, and Billy nodded to avoid the issue.
****
They exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve, ignoring the drama of the last few days and focusing on having fun. They sat on the couch, and Callum brought a pile of boxes he had prepared for Billy and the babies.
Callum gave Billy new flannel pajama pants, rommy at the back and at the front. “It’s a custom bubble‑butt edition,” Callum teased, leaning in and kissing Billy’s cheeks.
“Thanks. I really need it,” Billy responded, handing Callum a box with a digital photo frame where a short video of the babies’ last ultrasound was on repeat. “I thought you’d like to have a photo of them to remember how grateful we are for what you have done,” Billy said, seeing tears in Callum’s eyes and moving closer to rest his head on the big guy’s chest.
“I love it. You have no idea how much it means,” Callum said, kissing the top of Billy’s head as they looked at the grayscale picture moving. “I’ll always be there for you all,” he added, moving his hand over the taut belly as Billy nestled closer to him.
Billy melted as Callum’s hands slid to his hips to carefully apply some pressure to the outer curves where he carried so much new weight. Callum’s fingers moved along the curve of the pregnant body, drawing small patterns that made Billy arch and groan softly, torn between comfort and a sudden rush of horniness. Callum grinned and slid his hand under Billy’s pants to squeeze his bare ass and tease him.
“Do you like it?” Callum asked, shifting to have more access to Billy’s ample butt.
Billy nodded as a desperate sound escaped him. “Fuck, yes,” he said, almost begging as his breathing shortened.
Only a couple of minutes later, they were in bed, naked, passionately making out. Callum’s lips moved over Billy’s lips, jaw, and even his chest as his hand rubbed the taut belly and meaty hips. Billy’s chest was tender, and when Callum’s lips brushed there, he winced and laughed at himself, but Callum only smiled and kissed lower, exploring Billy’s pecs with his mouth until soft groans broke free.
“Oh, please! Why are you so good at this?” Billy asked, closing his eyes in pleasure as Callum intensified his attention.
Billy’s hands locked around Callum’s broad shoulders as if to steady himself, while his breath turned ragged, and moans escaped his mouth when Callum’s lips and tongue teased his nipples. Callum moved downward, kissing along the pregnant belly and whispering about how beautiful Billy looked. Then, the teasing moved lower as the exploring lips met Billy’s half-hard cock, immediately attacking it with such passion that the pregnant guy arched his back.
“OH! Callum! Callum! PLEASE!” Billy cried out, gripping the sheets as if holding onto them not to lose his mind in pleasure.
Callum’s hands fondled Billy’s overfilled balls, gently massaging them as his lips and tongue teased the tip of the cock. Then, Billy instinctively spread his legs and pulled Callum’s head up in an invitation to jump into something else. He was definitely desperate, and Cullum immediately understood the message, ready to fuck the pregnant guy.
Callum didn’t lose another second. He got in position and pushed forward, spreading Billy’s cheeks and stretching his hole with such passion that Billy’s guttural moans made the furniture tremble. It didn’t matter how many times Billy had felt Callum’s cock going so deep and stretching him so much; he could never get enough of it.
Callum bent close and pushed his cock all the way in, playfully biting Billy’s ears to tease him. “You feel that? You take me so perfectly,” he whispered, pressing further to accentuate his words. “You can’t blame me for getting mad when you look at another man. You’re so perfect for me, and all I want is to make you happy.”
Billy arched beneath him, clutching his fingers into Callum’s shoulders, gasping and barely able to focus. “Please—don’t stop, please, Callum! I only need you! I need you so badly,” he said between ragged breaths.
Callum started moving, back and forth, in and out, passionately and lovingly at first, but quickly gaining momentum to leave Billy in a blank-minded state. “I’ll leave you some gifts right here in this perfect belly,” he said. “I’d love to call these babies mine, but if it’s not possible, I’ll pump you up full of my kids.” It was a playful promise that made Billy tremble and whimper.
“YES! Do it!” Billy begged, feeling Callum’s cock leaking rivers into him.
Callum kissed him again and again, stealing Billy’s breath even more as the fucking turned so intense that the whole bed trembled. Billy’s eyes rolled, and his mouth was open in overwhelming pleasure as his moans thundered into the room. His pecs jiggled with each thrust, his belly shook rhythmically, his cock throbbed, and his balls bounced. However, right there, all his doubts faded; he couldn’t think of anyone but Callum, he couldn’t long to be with anyone else, and he only wanted to make the big guy happy, even when things weren’t that simple.
Minutes later, they were cuddling in bed, with Callum right behind Billy as their hands moved over the taut belly where the babies moved lazily. Then, they heard Billy’s stomach growling, and he groaned loudly. It was the second time that night, so both knew it was snack time again. Callum chuckled softly, kissed his cheek, and went to the kitchen. Billy could only smile when he saw the big guy’s perfect, bare body moving proudly to fulfill his cravings.
“He loves you all so much, you know that?” Billy whispered, looking at his belly and feeling two kicks that made him smile. “You agree? But things aren’t that simple. We can’t pull him into our mess when your da—Antonio is still around.” He stayed silent, pondering his complex reality and the fact that he needed to decide what to do before the babies were born.
A while later, Callum returned with cold roast potatoes, leftover pie, a bowl of ice cream, and fruit, everything he knew Billy demanded at night. The pregnant guy ate eagerly, half‑dreaming, and letting out little sounds of satisfaction while Callum sat beside him, softly caressing the rounded middle.
When Billy finished, there were crumbs on his lips and a blush on his cheeks, but Callum smiled, leaned close, and kissed him to clean the area with his lips. What began as a kiss always turned into something else. Billy ended up moaning happily while Callum pounded into him, over and over. It was a cycle they didn’t want to break. Every time the cravings woke Billy, Callum would satisfy the demands, and then they would have another round of passionate fucking before both drifted back to sleep again.
*
The following morning—Christmas—Billy woke ravenous despite how full he felt after the countless cum loads Callum had pumped into him. He devoured two boxes of cinnamon rolls, then leaned against the counter while Callum scrambled eggs and crisped bacon. They were still naked, and after breakfast, Billy sat on the big guy’s lap on the couch, face-to-face, while Callum oiled his stretched belly and teased him with a kiss whenever he pouted about waddling.
The babies rolled and kicked as if applauding. Billy blushed, and Callum grinned. “They like my technique. They’re loving the attention.”
“They like you, period,” Billy added, looking into Callum’s eyes. “We like you.”
“If that’s true, then come live with me. Full‑time.” Callum leaned in, kissing Billy’s belly while lovingly caressing his hips.
Billy smiled and sighed. “I practically do,” he said and melted into Callum’s body. “I want to. I swear I need to be with you all the time. But it’s not easy to say the words.”
“Which words?” Callum asked, wrapping his arms around Billy’s waist.
“That we’re—” He faltered. The word “boyfriends” still felt too small and too enormous for a guy who never pictured himself with another man. “That you’re mine and I’m yours. I’ve never felt like this before, so it’s not easy to understand it. Also, you’re way too good for someone like me.”
Callum chuckled, softly cupping Billy’s jaw and pulling him into a kiss. “I don’t need a label. And you are perfect for me; I don’t want anyone else. But no rush, the door’s open. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Billy whispered, leaning in and kissing Callum’s lips again. “I swear I can’t comprehend how perfect you are,” he added, reaching between them to grip Callum’s cock. “Every single part of you is perfect.”
“I say the same,” Callum grinned, firmly squeezing Billy’s ass. “Wanna go again?”
“All the time,” Billy responded, slowly lifting his rounded body to line Callum’s hardening cock with his eager hole. “You’ll make me burst with so much cum before the New Year. But I can’t deny that I love it,” he added, sitting heavily and taking Callum’s cock in one move.
“It sounds like a challenge I’m willing to test,” Callum said, reaching for Billy’s softened chest as he started bouncing rhythmically.
They spent the following days eating, relaxing, hugging, and fucking over and over. By New Year’s Eve, Billy felt ready to burst with all the food he had eaten, the babies stretching restlessly, and immense amounts of cum that Callum had shot deep into him. Life felt perfect, but deep down, Billy couldn’t help but feel like it was too good for him—that Callum was too good for him. Each day, it was harder for him to deny how much he loved the big guy, so it was time to surrender.
At midnight on New Year’s Eve, Billy stood by the window looking out at the fireworks, only wearing the pajama pants Callum had gotten him for Christmas. Callum came up behind him, sliding his arms around his middle to caress and hug the heavy belly. Billy leaned back against him, sighing as Callum rested his chin on his shoulder, pressing his hips forward until his bulge nestled between the generous curve of Billy’s ass.
“Happy New Year, Billy. You’re glowing brighter than all those fireworks,” Callum whispered, swaying from side to side to the rhythm of a soft background song.
Billy laughed, placing his hands atop Callum’s. “That’s the cider talking.”
“Nope. It’s the babies making you glow,” Callum said, feeling the twins shifting beneath his hand. “Right, kiddos? Your daddy can’t seem to understand how good he looks.”
Billy smiled, enjoying Callum’s warm touch. “They’re saying hi,” Billy whispered.
“Yeah. These babies know their daddy loves to feel them move,” he whispered back.
Billy turned in his arms and kissed Callum, long and sweet. “They’re saying hi to us.” Billy smiled into the kiss. “They know their dad also loves to feel them move,” he added as Callum’s eyes widened and tears ran down his cheeks, momentarily unable to respond.
“Are you serious?” Callum said between kisses.
“Only if you want to. Being a dad is a big thing. No pressure. I know it’s a big responsibility, and the situation with Antonio is complex, but I’ve been—” Billy said, blushing and looking down at his middle.
“I promise I’ll be the best dad in the world. You have no idea how happy you make me,” Callum said, hugging Billy tighter and feeling the babies kick against his abs.
“And… if you still accept me, if you still accept us,” Billy said, looking down at his bulging belly. “I think it’s time to admit that here’s the place I want to be,” Billy said, blushing even more while caressing Callum’s chest.
“This place is yours. I’ll get everything ready tomorrow morning,” Callum said as they kissed passionately. “I’m already loving the new year.”
*
By January 2, Billy had officially moved in with Callum, and their routine turned more loving, somehow making the babies grow faster. Billy’s abdomen ballooned day by day, and the weight forced him to arch his back for comfort. His gait slowed to a careful sway as his hips bore the heavy load. His ass had always had a prominent presence, but now it felt like an anchor balancing the forward weight. Sleep required a fortress of pillows around his middle, his lower back ached if he stood too long, and stairs were a nightmare. However, with Callum by his side, he loved every single one of these changes.
But Billy’s body still had ways to surprise him. One afternoon in a bookstore café, a new symptom announced itself. Billy was mindlessly rubbing his belly when he felt a sharp tingle in his chest, like a pins‑and‑needles rush that made him gasp. The feeling deepened under the fabric, followed by a strange dampness that clung to his skin. He looked down and paled when he saw two wet spots spreading in the cotton, growing darker by the second.
Billy froze in confusion and disbelief for a moment, and then panic struck. He shifted in his chair as his nipples throbbed faintly and the wetness spread to his middle. “Callum,” he whispered, still terrified. “I think—I think something’s happening.” His hands moved uselessly near his chest, feeling the fabric stick to his skin.
Callum’s eyes widened, and he quickly guided Billy to the restroom. Despite the shock, when they removed Billy’s shirt, both gasped in awe at the sight of the plumped-up pecs—softer and rounder at this point—that kept leaking white droplets of what they knew was milk. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting you to lactate so early.”
“Lactate? You can’t be serious! What am I now, a dairy cow?” Billy said in panic.
Callum laughed and pulled out one of his tank tops from his bag to replace Billy’s wet shirt. “It’s only a faint leak. Your body is preparing to feed the babies. It’s normal.”
“I don’t think so,” Billy said, blushing but knowing Callum was right.
“It’s okay. Let me help,” Callum said, using Billy’s discarded shirt to dry his chest and belly up, applying gentle pressure around the nipples, making Billy groan, but at least managing to make the leaking stop. “You’ll have to feed two hungry babies; you’ll need all the milk your body can produce. And you’re already doing it. You see? You’re perfect for it.”
“You sound too excited about it. It’s not fun,” Billy said as Callum leaned in and kissed his softened pecs. The pregnant guy couldn’t help but smile at the loving action. “Okay, you make it hard not to enjoy it,” he said as Callum smiled and helped Billy put on the tank top that was evidently too big for him.
The challenges didn’t end there. Billy’s belly was bigger, his chest was filling up, his ass and hips felt thicker, and the hormones skyrocketing in his body made his balls produce cum at a wild rate. The fullness made the orbs heavier and tighter, stretching his scrotum and making it feel tender until walking was almost impossible. If he ignored it for long, the ache became unbearable, forcing him to stop mid‑task to catch his breath and handle the issue.
He needed to cum constantly to ease the pressure, and Callum was more than willing to help him out. Sometimes it was at dawn when the weight woke Billy early, and sometimes late at night when he could no longer concentrate on anything else, but every single time, Callum was there to make the process of release fantastically pleasurable.
Callum would make Billy lie back as his hands stroked the thick cock until the pregnant guy’s breathing turned to panting and his eyes fluttered shut. Other times, Callum used his mouth, locking his lips around the big head and teasing the slit with his tongue until Billy was gasping, moaning, and rolling his eyes as the unbearable pressure broke into a thick cum shot that often went down Callum’s throat.
The climax was always intense, and the amount of cum was immense, almost shocking each time, and his whole body trembled as his swollen balls slowly deflated. Callum would hold him through the aftermath, sucking, stroking, or kissing at all the right spots until Billy could wrap himself up and go back to something manageable again. The cycle repeated through the day, often going for it three or four times a day when Billy’s balls went into overdrive.
“You’ll make me look pregnant if you keep cumming so much,” Callum would joke after swallowing Billy’s enormous load that bloated his abdomen.
Billy grinned and rested his hand on Callum’s slightly rounded middle. “I think it looks good on you, but I love it even more when you’re the one filling me up,” he would say, winking and reaching lower to squeeze Callum’s bulge.
“Wanna go again?” Callum would ask, already knowing the answer.
“All the time. I’m yours and you’re mine now,” Billy responded as Callum slowly turned to get on top, brushing his hardening cock against Billy’s plump body.
Hey there! So... I wanted to make it look better by arranging it differently, to access the stories more easily. I had a plan in mind, but it ended up not working as I expected. lol.
Hopefully, I'll put it all together again soon. I know it was easier to find the stories that way so... give me a few days and I'll fix it.
For curiosity: will ypu release any patreon exclusive content? At least your older works?
Hey there!
Well, they're Patreon Exclusive for a reason. hehe. So, I won't post them publicly any time soon (if ever).
However, if you're interested, Patreon has a new feature where you can access a specific post without subscribing. I'm still setting that up but each piece will cost the minimum Patreon allows, which is $3 (I honestly wanted to make it a lot lower, but well).
By mid-December, Hayden was moving between constant feedings, soothing, and resting, which somehow kept him afloat. He had recently given birth to Connor’s twin boys, but his body felt softer, heavier, and rounder than ever. His belly was impossibly huge and continued to expand day by day, filled with Jake’s babies. However, he felt more at ease than he had in months. The immense weight was overwhelming, but even when he groaned under the strain, there was peace in knowing the cause of his burden.
Each morning began with Hayden stirring slowly in bed, hearing a symphony of coos, gurgles, and the occasional wail from his twelve hungry babies. His tits were swollen and heavy with milk beyond belief, aching even before he opened his eyes. By the time he sat up, he felt warm streams already trickling down his chest and soaking the sheets beneath him.
He pushed himself upright with a long groan, bracing his immense belly to take some of its weight while his free arm prepared to get the nearest baby boy from the cribs. He could feel the sway of his belly with each breath, the bounce of his tits, and the stirring of the babies inside pushing outward against his overly stretched skin. His cock and balls demanded attention, but he had too many things to worry about before getting there.
The routine never stopped. As one baby finished nursing, another began to fuss, and their cries blended into a chorus of sound. He’d lift one and cradle another against his shoulder as he whispered nonsense to soothe them. The wet suckling as they latched, the quiet sighs after feeding, and the soft thumps of his hand patting small backs to make them burp had become Hayden’s life soundtrack.
But even when fatigue made his limbs tremble, Hayden found joy in every soft sigh and fluttering hand. Each group of babies demanded something different of him, and he gave it all with passion and love. James’ sextuplets, now five months old, had grown to show off slightly different personalities—Matt had an infectious laugh, Sawyer loved to be in Hayden’s arms, Cole and Hale often babbled to each other in their crib, and Kevin and Peter were explorers, always waving their hands for attention.
Tyler’s twins, Tristan and Jonah, were easier to soothe but no less demanding. They loved his voice; whenever he talked, they quieted instantly. Hayden often sang softly to them while rocking in his chair, holding both boys at once as his milk flowed freely into their mouths. Marcus’s twins, Nathan and Michael, were constantly hungry. Their cries were sharp and insistent, always reminding him that his chest never rested. Hayden would settle them against his tits, and their little hands would pat and squeeze while he tried to hold his posture steady. It wasn’t easy between his belly, his tits, and the babies, but when they finally fell asleep with milk-drunk smiles, the soreness in his body faded.
Connor’s newborns, Colton and Brady, were still tiny. They loved sleeping against his tits, right above where his heartbeat was loud and slow. Hayden would sit still, barely daring to breathe too deeply so as not to wake them, feeling their tiny bodies against his taut skin and loving every second of it. The weight of his belly made sitting upright a challenge, but he managed, holding the babies close to him.
His parents helped as much as they could, preparing bottles with the milk Hayden pumped several times a day, folding laundry, and setting up pillows around him so he could shift positions without straining. Noah often jumped in after school, eager to feed or burp one of his many nephews. Things were difficult, and his hyperfertility was shocking, but they worked together through it, making Hayden feel slightly better about the circumstances.
But as Hayden tended to his brood, he could feel his body betraying its limits. According to the ultrasound from a couple of months ago, he was carrying eight more babies, but he felt far heavier than that. His skin stretched tight and glossy, and his navel pushed out even more. Every movement made him groan, and even turning on the bed was a challenge.
His hips had grown broader, his thighs thicker, and his ass was so round and heavy that sitting for a long time was nearly impossible. His waddling was more intense with each passing day. He tried to hide the strain from his parents, but they saw how fast he was growing—faster than ever before—and they exchanged silent glances of concern.
Hayden could feel it too. Every time he rubbed his taut belly, he could feel immense pressure from within, more than he should have. He could feel the two sets of quadruplets kicking and turning, but there was something else. At times, it felt like an entire crowd shifting within him. He would rest his head back and sigh, whispering to the unseen babies, trying to calm himself even though he already knew what was happening.
The demands on his body were relentless, constantly overwhelming him. His tits never stopped aching. His milk production had grown beyond what twelve babies could ever manage, and it left him flushed and sensitive. No matter how often he fed them, his nipples leaked constantly, soaking everything around him, even the nursing pads. He could feel the warm milk trickling down his belly as another baby whimpered nearby.
He would put the hungry babies on his tits, and he enjoyed the suckling mixed with the babies’ tiny gulps and contented sighs. Sometimes, when the room was quiet except for those noises, Hayden would smile tiredly and whisper to himself that he really was a dairy factory. His body had endless work between growing the babies inside, producing milk, and feeding those already born.
Every hour brought another rush of pressure, leaving his tits feeling impossibly heavy. His skin tingled as milk refilled them, and he would shift with a low grunt, trying to relieve the ache. Sometimes, the babies latched so eagerly that they made him gasp. Each feeding left him breathless and trembling from the tenderness and the strange satisfaction of seeing their tiny faces soften with contentment. He had peaceful moments, but the struggles never disappeared.
Hunger was another battle. Hayden could not stop eating; it was as if every cell in his body screamed for fuel. He devoured everything his parents cooked—piles of pancakes dripping with syrup, towering stacks of sandwiches, and entire pots of stew. He ate three hearty servings of breakfast before the sun was fully up. Then came snacks before lunch—crunches, slurps, and sighs of relief as he satisfied wave after wave of hunger.
Lunch itself was a feast of seconds and thirds, followed by more bites while he rocked a baby or sang softly to calm them all. By evening, his appetite had become almost comical. The smell of roasting meat or baking bread made his belly growl audibly. At night, cravings drove him to whisper Jake’s name, asking him to bring more food. His appetite seemed to grow with his belly. He was insatiable. He was constantly full but never satisfied.
Sometimes Jake woke to find Hayden already in the kitchen, spoon in hand, whispering nonsense while eating leftovers straight from the pot. “I’m eating for a whole town,” Hayden would tease, half-embarrassed and half-proud.
Jake would laugh, kissing his cheek. “And I’m the one who got you that way, so I’ll keep you fed. Just name it, and I’ll bring it for you.”
Every Saturday, Jake arrived with arms full of bags of groceries, baby clothes, toys, and gifts from the other dads. The babies lit up at the sound of his voice, gurgling and kicking their little legs. He would scoop up two at a time, rocking them while Hayden smiled from the bed. The two moved in perfect harmony. Jake prepared bottles or folded laundry while Hayden fed or soothed whichever boy cried. And in the quieter moments, they would collapse together on the bed, surrounded by a sea of baby blankets, kissing and caressing each other’s bodies.
Jake’s tenderness never wavered. He brushed Hayden’s hair back when exhaustion pulled him down, massaged his swollen feet, and kissed the top of his massive belly as if thanking it for the life it carried. And one of Hayden’s favorite parts was when Jake passionately fucked him for as long as their busy life allowed them. Every weekend, they found a moment to let themselves go and fuck like rabbits, even though they knew the consequences.
Their strange, chaotic domestic world was perfect until one night, close to Christmas, when Hayden sighed and admitted that he felt lonely when Jake was gone during the week.
“I miss you so much it hurts,” Hayden whispered, rubbing his belly. “You should be here with us. Or we should be there with you.”
Jake kissed his lips, brushing his fingers over the immense belly. “I hate being away from you. But I have to finish college—for you and our many kids.”
Hayden smiled, but there were tears in his eyes. “There has to be a way. Especially now that we’re having more.” He placed both hands on his belly.
Jake’s grin grew, and his face lit up. “Then I’ll find us a place near campus. Somewhere we can all be together, twenty-four-seven. Who knows?” He lowered his voice and kissed Hayden’s grin. “Maybe that way we really will reach that hundred babies we talked about.”
Hayden laughed as their kisses turned more passionate. Jake’s hands moved to squeeze Hayden’s meaty hips, making the pregnant guy moan. Both knew what they wanted. Both knew it was risky. But at this point, they needed each other too much to worry about adding more kids to Hayden’s womb. They surrendered to each other, and within seconds, Jake’s cock was entering Hayden’s hole for the third fuck of the day.
*
When Christmas arrived, the house was chaotic, but joyful. The living room’s floor was covered with gifts for the babies: tiny clothes, plush animals, bottles, endless rows of toys, and baby supplies, even for the unborn babies.
They had lots of fun opening presents, but Jake had saved his gifts for last. He handed Hayden a small box first. Inside, there was a bracelet engraved with both their names. Hayden couldn’t contain his tears as he put it on. Next came a framed photo of all twelve babies lined up. Finally, Jake gave him a playful but practical gift that left everybody speechless—an enormous maternity hoodie that actually fit.
Hayden blinked, and his mouth fell open before laughing. “You’re kidding,” he gasped between laughs. The fabric looked impossibly wide and soft as a cloud. He stood carefully as Jake helped him unfold the hoodie. “It’s a Christmas miracle! Where did you even find something so big?” he joked, stretching it over his head. It kept stretching as it slid across his shoulders, chest, and mountainous belly, somehow managing to cover him almost entirely.
Noah laughed and whistled at the scene. “That thing’s big enough to double as a circus tent,” he teased, laughing so hard he nearly dropped one of the babies.
Even Hayden’s dad chuckled. “They should put that in the Guinness Book of Records. Seriously, Jake. Where did you get that thing?”
Hayden blushed and kept laughing, marveling at how his belly felt covered for the first time in months. “Hey, it’s the first time something’s actually fit me in months!” he said proudly.
Jake approached and rubbed his fiancé’s rounded middle. “Perfect fit for a perfect man! Merry Christmas, Hayden!” he said, grinning from ear to ear and leaning to kiss Hayden’s lips.
Hayden kissed him back and wrapped his arms around Jake’s strong torso, overwhelmed by the love surrounding him. “Merry Christmas! I love you! We love you,” he said, looking at the babies all over the room and then at his belly, where the rest moved.
The meal that night was enormous, and Hayden couldn’t stop eating—seconds, thirds, and fourths. A deep groan of satisfaction followed each bite as he felt his body getting heavier. He reached for another serving, teasing Jake with a playful grin that he had made him this way. Every swallow came with a contented sigh, and his belly gurgled softly while Jake chuckled at his appetite. When everyone else had finished and drifted toward the living room, Hayden was still reaching for more, unable to stop even while breastfeeding some of the babies.
By bedtime, the house was quiet except for the coos of the babies. Jake tucked them in one by one, softly singing, and then returned to find Hayden still awake with his eyes half-lidded but hands busy polishing off the last of the pie. He looked so blissfully full that Jake had to laugh. Without a word, he turned on his heel, came back with another tray—warm rolls, a bowl of stew, and a mug of hot milk—and set it beside him. Hayden groaned with delight.
“You got me into this mess. You got me this pregnant,” Hayden said between bites as his cheeks flushed. “Now you have to feed me,” he added, playfully giving his massive belly a few pats before opening his mouth for Jake to pop a roll in.
“Gladly,” Jake said, kissing Hayden’s cheeks and brushing crumbs from his lips before tenderly feeding him. “We’d better keep all these babies well fed. We don’t even know how many are in there,” he said, chuckling and smiling every time Hayden reached for another bite, doing everything he could to keep him satisfied as the night stretched on.
Then, as the year drew to a close, Hayden’s fullness became overwhelming. On December 30th, after a gigantic breakfast that left him feeling impossibly stretched and sluggish, he tried to nap in his bedroom, with one hand resting on his taut middle as he exhaled heavy sighs. His middle rose and fell with each breath, firmer than ever as the weight of it pressed into his ribs and hips. His belly gurgled, full of food and restless motion from within, and Hayden groaned softly, rubbing circles over the tense surface. Every attempt to shift brought a creak from the bed and a small gasp from him as he tried to ease the tightness.
Then, without warning, a deep cramp hit him. His eyes snapped open, and a low moan escaped his mouth as his entire abdomen seized up, rock-hard and trembling. He clutched at his belly instinctively, feeling the taut skin quivering beneath his fingers. Another contraction came, sharper this time, making him groan deep. He tried to breathe through it, but his breath came ragged. He groaned more as he tried to sit up, but his immense belly pinned him down.
“Jake!” he gasped, but his voice broke mid-word.
Jake appeared in seconds, immediately realizing what was happening and instantly moving into action. He started opening drawers, gathering supplies they kept ready for the births. But before he could finish, he heard a loud wet pop followed by a rush of liquid pouring into the sheets as Hayden’s water broke. The pregnant guy let out a breathless cry as the liquid pooled beneath him, and his panting grew heavier.
Jake was at his side in an instant, gripping his hand and helping him change positions while Hayden groaned. The next contraction hit like a wall, forcing another moan as his massive belly tightened under Jake’s touch.
“They’re coming,” he gasped, clutching Jake’s hand.
“Hey, hey. I know. Just breathe; you know it works. You’ve got this,” Jake responded, kissing Hayden’s trembling lips. “I’m here; I’ll always be here.”
Hayden’s parents and Noah took the twelve babies away so Hayden could focus on the current labor. The hours that followed were brutal as wave after wave of pain hit Hayden’s trembling and overly stretched body. Each contraction tore through him like fire, leaving him gasping and clutching at the sheets.
“You’re doing so well,” Jake whispered, wiping sweat from Hayden’s face as he arched against the pressure. The muscles in his arms trembled as he bore down. Every fiber of his body focused on bringing the babies into the world.
“Fuck! It never gets easier! It hurts so fucking much!” Hayden screamed as the first baby’s head slowly emerged, stretching him and making his hole burn like hell. “Oh, please! Ugh! I need him out!” He cried out as the head popped free and the shoulders immediately pressed forward, making the pain peak.
The first baby came with a cry that made Hayden’s heart beat fast as he screamed and collapsed back onto the pillows. He was breathless, barely conscious, as Jake cleaned the baby and said how perfect he was. Not even a minute passed before the next contraction seized him.
“Another one—Jake, I can’t—” He panted, gripping Jake’s hand hard enough to make him wince. “Please! Make it stop!”
Jake leaned close. “You can. I’m right here. Breathe and push.”
Hayden obeyed, forcing air through his clenched teeth as he pushed, pushed, and pushed until another sharp cry joined them—baby two. Again, he barely had time to catch his breath before the third wave of contractions hit harder than the first two combined. His body trembled as he screamed through it, but the third baby came out faster than his older brothers. However, number four was right behind him, leaving Hayden barely conscious with pain.
Jake supported him, one hand at his back and the other rubbing his belly. “Almost there. You’ve got this, Hayden. Come on. Push!”
Hayden’s head fell back, tears streamed down his cheeks, and his lips trembled as he cried out again. The final baby’s arrival was the hardest. Hours had passed, and Hayden’s body was nearly spent. Every movement was agony; every push felt like fire. “Jake—it’s too much,” he whispered. “I can’t. I can’t push anymore.”
Jake only squeezed his hand tighter, momentarily scared of how much Hayden’s body had gone through. “Hey, hey. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever met. You’re the best daddy in the world. If there’s someone on this planet who can do this, it’s you. Come on, one last push,” he softly said.
With a final, ragged scream, Hayden bore down, pushing harder than ever before. His body arched in pain and release until at last the cry of the fourth baby echoed in the room. Hayden slumped back, shaking, and his face was streaked with tears. By the time the final newborn’s cry settled into soft hiccups, Hayden was smiling again. All the pain was worth it when he had new babies in his arms.
“You did it, Hayden. They’re here,” he said, placing the four babies in Hayden’s arms as both cried. “We have sixteen sons now. You know I love them all the same, but you know these four mean something special,” he added, looking at the babies who looked just like him. The quadruplets were Jake’s first biological sons, and their tiny faces resembled him.
“I know. They look just like you,” Hayden said, tearing at the lovely sight. “So, names? I know we have a list, but we never discussed the order to use them since we’ll need many names in the future.”
“True. What about… Hunter, Holden, Jensen, and John?” Jake said, caressing the babies’ little hairs.
“I love them. They sound like handsome guys,” he said, giggling. “As handsome as their dad. The best man in the world, and the one I’ll marry once he stops pumping me full of babies,” he added, and they kissed passionately.
Hayden’s parents, Noah, and all the older babies came into the room moments later to meet the new babies. They were so excited about the quadruplets that Hayden’s mom even said that she couldn’t deny that Jake and Hayden made some cute babies together. Hayden blushed but nodded as he breastfed the newborns. He couldn’t be happier, even when his hands were full and his whole body was so sore.
Jake bathed Hayden tenderly afterward, guiding him slowly into the warm water. Hayden winced as the first touch of water met his tender skin; every muscle in his body ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his chest was sore from hours of strain. Jake’s hands moved carefully, moving a sponge across Hayden’s shoulders and down his arms, washing away the sweat and the fluids of labor. The warm water soothed the lingering tremors that rippled through him, making him sigh. His belly floated slightly, immense and taut, still impossibly round despite the births, as the water lapped softly against it.
When Jake’s hand brushed over it, Hayden groaned softly. Hayden’s eyelids fluttered, smiling peacefully as he leaned back against Jake’s arm. He whispered faintly, half-asleep, “I feel empty, but still so full. It doesn’t even make sense.”
Jake leaned in and kissed his wet belly. “You’re getting empty but also filling up with more babies. It doesn’t have to make sense, enjoy it.”
When the bath was over, Jake helped him out carefully, wrapping him in soft towels and drying him off. Each step back to the bed was slow, and Hayden grunted softly as Jake’s strong hands supported his back, easing him onto the sheets. Around them, sixteen tiny babies slept soundly with milk-filled tummies. It was moments like this that made Hayden feel like the happiest and luckiest man on Earth.
Hayden’s parents peeked in, smiling at the peaceful sight. But their eyes widened when they noticed how Hayden’s belly still looked too big and firm. They looked at each other, and after several weeks, they finally decided to ask.
“There’re only four left, right?” his mother asked.
Hayden hesitated, blushing, and only caressed his middle. Jake blushed and looked at her with a soft smile. No one said another word, but the truth was clear.
Right on Time by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Patreon-Exclusive Mayternity Sequel to Wrong ETA🫃🏻
Eight months had passed since the chaos of the flight when John had given birth to his triplet boys. Some days, it still felt recent enough that he could vividly remember the pressure and the panic settling in his chest. The memory had never faded, even when things had changed a lot since that day.
The triplets were 8 months old now, so every single day felt loud from beginning to end. There was always crying, babbling, grabbing hands, diapers to change, toys scattered across the floor, and at least one baby demanding his attention at all times. And on top of it all, John was already 7 months pregnant again, with quintuplets this time.
The doctors had sounded fascinated during the first ultrasound. He called John’s fertility “remarkable” with careful professionalism that almost hid his disbelief, but living through it was an entirely different experience. There was nothing remarkable about trying to function every day inside a body that constantly felt stretched past its limits.
This pregnancy had changed him fast. His body had filled out heavily within weeks of finding out how many babies he was carrying. His hips had widened enough to change how he moved through rooms. His thighs rubbed constantly when he walked, and his chest had become absurdly full from months of nonstop milk production. Feeding three babies while preparing to feed five more had pushed his body into overdrive.
His belly was already bigger than it had been on the day he gave birth to the triplets. When he sat, his belly rested in his lap, straining every T-shirt he owned, and forced him to move slowly due to the weight pulling at his lower back and hips. The babies inside him were always active, rolling, stretching, and kicking hard enough to make his abdomen tremble at random points throughout the day.
Eight for Eight - Part 5 by Bigmpregnm on Patreon. Join Bigmpregnm's community for exclusive content and updates.
Patreon Exclusive
The weeks kept passing, and Levi’s body kept expanding. At some point, the growth stopped feeling gradual and started feeling constant, like he was waking up bigger every single morning, no matter what he did. The pregnancy had taken over his entire life. Most days followed the same rhythm: eating, resting, shifting around trying to get comfortable, napping, eating again, and trying to survive the discomfort of carrying eight growing babies.
The only real physical activity he got anymore came from the awkward, exhausting attempts to deal with the constant horniness his hormones kept throwing at him. The problem was that he couldn’t even reach his crotch properly anymore. Every attempt turned into an uncomfortable struggle full of grunting, sweating, and frustrated groans while his massive belly shook between him and his cock.
Half the time, Levi gave up and collapsed back against the couch or mattress, panting, flushed, and still painfully pent up. “This is torture,” he said more than once, rubbing his belly while the babies rolled around inside him, unaware of his misery.
Still, the hormones never stopped, and neither did the frustration, especially as his body kept getting bigger and heavier by the day.
Levi never left the cabin, mostly because moving around had become exhausting. His body felt enormous in every possible way. His belly had ballooned so far outward that it was ridiculous. It rested heavily in his lap when he sat, pushed firmly against the mattress when he lay down, and swayed with an overwhelming weight every time he walked.
