The Rugby Player ; Four Months In ; 19 and Pregnant ; Full Term Cheer ; Heavily Pregnant ; Fairy Lights ; Braxton Hicks at Christmas ; Christmas Kicks ; Knocked Up by the Quarterback ; Six Months with Twins ; Full Term with Twins ; Seven Months Gone ; Rounding Out ; Twin Curves ; Young Dads ; Overdue Lovers ; Ready to Birth ; Pregnant by the Boss ; Huge, Heavy, and Overdue with Triplets ; Growing by Two ; Carrying His Seed ; 8 Months with Triplets
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.
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.
Estaba tranquilo en el asiento 💺 viendo mi teléfono con mi niño al lado y pasa un joven de unos 16 y me dice que si le puedo ceder el asiento yo le dije que si jaja osea normal se sienta y me dice "que hace usted con un niño tan chico donde está su mami" no lo dijo para ofender jajaja le respondí que le habla a la madre y me mira y se ríe jajajajaajajjajaja
Y le dije que estoy en comienzo de un embarazo y me dice que el que tenía en brazos no era muy chico y le digo que el que llevaba en brazos era mi hijo número 6 y se me quedó viendo
Hellooo I rode the bus today
I was relaxing in my seat 💺 looking at my phone with my kid next to me when a young guy, about 16, walks by and asks if I can give him my seat. I said yes, haha, like, normal. He sits down and says,"What are you doing with such a young child? Where's his mommy?" I didn't mean to offend, hahaha. I replied that he was talking to his mother, and he looked at me and laughed, hahaha.
And I told him I was in the early stages of pregnancy, and he said that the one I was holding wasn't very small, and I told him that the one I was holding was my sixth child, and he just stared at me Hahahaha
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.
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.
Soy nuevo haciendo esto, es mi segundo embarazo, pero la primera vez que publico, espero ser de su agrado llevo 3 semanas y aún pegan fuerte las náuseas
I'm new to this, it's my second pregnancy, but this is my first time posting, I hope you like it, I'm 3 weeks along and the nausea is still hitting hard
not sure what he’s swelling with (probably eggs lbr, it’s usually eggs) but here’s some weiss getting some pampering and rapidly growing in the process. hooray!
sorta combined days 4, 5, and 6 of @solarhill ‘s 2026 mayternity prompts into one post— one large egg, many medium eggs, and a ton of small eggs. because who else would push himself to do all three in one night if not weiss?
The doctor is concerned at how big Liam is getting. He is almost 30 weeks and the baby is getting very large. He suggests it is probably down to Liam's sugar laden diet but Liam is relunctant to change it. He's going to getting much bigger if he does nothing about it.
